


Little Bird

by PalomaD



Category: The Mummy Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-25 03:38:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/948176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PalomaD/pseuds/PalomaD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Our favorite Medjai makes a purchase that changes his life. A romantic adventure. Rated M just to be sure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Bird

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The characters of Ardeth Bay, Rick O’Connell, Evelyn Carnahan O’Connell, Jonathan Carnahan, Alex O’Connell, and Imhotep are the property of Stephen Sommers and Universal Studios. The situations and all other characters were created and owned by the author. No copyright infringement is intended.

The Medjai sentries had already determined that the caravan seemed to pose no threat to the village.  Calling it a caravan would have been generous.  There were four dusty camels, two with riders: a man and a young girl.  All the camels were laden with cloth wrapped bundles containing the types of goods the desert dwellers could not make or grow.  And if the riders were spies, then the Medjai had ways to deal with them.  A quick death by the blade of a scimitar was preferable to what the Medjai did to spies.

Ardeth Bay heard the sentry’s whistle, the number of bursts indicating that a small group was approaching.  He smiled to himself when he saw the caravan.  He knew it would provide a welcome diversion for his tribe, and especially for his mother.

Amira Bay loved to buy things.  As the wife of the retired Medjai Chieftain, she had ample gold with which to satisfy her desires.  However, most of what she bought soon found its way to the tent of someone who really needed it.

She would bring a fragrant pot of stew to the tent of a woman whose husband had been killed while on patrol, a woman who was now trying to raise four small children alone.  “I cooked too much tonight,” she would say.  “It seems a shame to let it go to waste.  I thought you and your children would enjoy it.”  And as for the brand new pot, Amira would say, “Oh that old thing, I’ll just get it the next time I am here.”  And of course she never would.

“I bought this bolt of cloth and then realized I already have a robe this color,” she would say to a young woman who was trying to attract a suitor.  “Then I thought how nice it would go with your eyes.”

This was what Amira did.  She helped people, but in an unobtrusive, self-effacing way. 

Ardeth’s tent was one of the largest in the village, as befitting the Chieftain of all the Twelve Tribes.  It was here the caravan stopped.   The man climbed down from his mount then went over to the girl behind him, pulling her down to the ground before her camel had a chance to kneel.  “Hurry up!” Murrah ordered.  “Get these beasts unloaded.  I think we will do good business here today.”

Already the villagers had gathered to examine the man’s wares.  A few bought some small items but for the most part, the man did not have anything that anyone wanted to buy.  Most of what he had was old or broken.  Even Amira could not find anything to tempt her.

Ardeth had stayed in the background.  He was not all that interested in buying anything.  New fly tassels for his horse would be nice, but he could tell the peddler did not have any of acceptable quality.  As the villagers moved away with their meager purchases, the man caught Ardeth’s eye. 

“Sayyid,” he said, bowing low in an obsequious manner. He had noticed how the others deferred to the tall, handsome Medjai and had decided this must be their leader.  “I have something special for a man of your obvious taste.”  With that he grabbed the girl by the collar of her ragged robe and thrust her down to the sand at Ardeth’s feet.

Ardeth looked down.  The girl looked to be about twelve years old, but was probably an undernourished sixteen or seventeen.  Her dark hair was tangled about a face that was streaked with the dust of the desert.   Her clothes were ripped in many places and she wore no shoes.

“This is my only daughter,” Murrah said with an oily smile.  “She could provide you much pleasure in the coolness of your tent on such a hot day.”  Then he added, “She is a virgin!”

Medjai are not gullible people, and Medjai Chieftains are even less gullible.  Ardeth guessed the last statement was untrue and thought this man had probably pandered his way across the desert, selling the girl’s body at every opportunity.

The man grabbed the girl and pulled her up so she was standing right in front of Ardeth, her eyes cast down and a look of terror on her face.  The man grabbed her chin and tilted her head up.  “She is comely, is she not?”  He turned her head from side to side and Ardeth noticed the girl had eyes the color of the sky just before dark.  When the man reached down to lift up the girl’s robe, Ardeth put out his hand to stop him.

“How much to buy her?” he growled. 

Murrah did not register the tone of the Medjai’s voice, only that he was about to make a sale.  He looked around as if gauging the wealth of his customer and then replied leeringly, “It depends on what you want to do with her, Sayyid.”

“I wish to buy her.  She is to stay here.  How much?”

The peddler was taken aback.  How much?  He thought for a moment.  “This girl would make an excellent addition to your harem,” he said.  “Six horses.”

A crowd had gathered during this exchange.  In whispered voices everyone agreed that six horses was a lot to pay, and most of the people couldn’t understand why their Chieftain wanted this girl in the first place.  He could have his pick of any unmarried woman in the village without having to diminish his herd.

“Three horses,” the Medjai countered.  Then he smiled a cold smile at the man.  “And we let you leave.”

Something in the Medjai’s voice made the peddler shiver.  “Very well, Sayyid, it is a deal.”  He turned to the girl.  “You see, my daughter, I have made a good match for you!”

The girl, who had not uttered a word, spat at the man’s feet.  He raised his hand to slap her but found it trapped in Ardeth’s strong grip.

“Take your horses and get out of here,” Ardeth ordered.  He motioned to one of his men.  “Faris, give this men three horses of your choosing and escort him out of the village.”  He knew Faris was an excellent horseman and would not give valuable horses or pregnant mares to the man.  Without another look at the peddler, Ardeth gently took the girl by the arm and led her into his tent.

“It is alright,” he said softly.  “You are safe now.  Esmak ēh? What is your name?”

The girl looked at the floor and did not answer.

“No one is going to hurt you,” the Medjai tried again. “Could you tell me your name?”

The girl mumbled something.

“I am sorry, I did not hear you,”  Ardeth said patiently.

“Worthless whore.  That’s what he calls me.  Worthless whore.”  Almost a whisper. 

Ardeth saw tears on the girl’s face. 

“What did your mother call you?”  Ardeth tried again.

“I don’t remember.”  More tears.

Ardeth decided to let the question drop.  He could tell that he was upsetting the girl and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Are you hungry?”  He walked over to the low table and picked up a piece of cheese and a knife to cut it with.

When the girl saw the knife in Ardeth’s hand, she shrank back.

“Do not be alarmed, it is only for the cheese.”  He cut off a piece of cheese and handed it to the girl.  Obviously hungry, she took it gingerly and swallowed it almost without chewing it.

Ardeth turned back to the table and cut a piece of the loaf of bread that was next to the cheese.  “Would you like some……” he started to say as he turned back to the girl.

Both the knife and the bread clattered to the ground.  The girl had removed her filthy tunic and was standing before him naked.

Ardeth Bay was Chieftain of the Twelve Tribes of the Medjai, but he was also a man.  It was the man who looked at the girl standing before him.  Her developed breasts and the hair between her legs told him he had probably been correct when he estimated her age at about sixteen or seventeen.  He felt himself becoming aroused but immediately put that thought from his mind.

“Do you want to sex me now?”  the girl asked, still not looking up at the Medjai’s face.

An incredulous “What?” exploded from Ardeth’s mouth.

“Do you want to sex me?  You bought me and now you own me.”

Ardeth was speechless for a moment, then made a decision.  “Put your clothes back on,” he ordered.  “And stay here!”  He dashed out of the tent.

Medjai chieftains do not dash.  They may run into battle or leap onto their horses, but they do not dash.  Still, Ardeth definitely dashed to his parents’ tent.

Humam Bay looked up from his book when his son entered.  Now that he was no longer Chieftain, he had more time for leisurely pursuits such as reading, and more time to enjoy his wife, as was evidenced by her rapidly expanding waistline.  Ardeth had become Chieftain three years earlier at the age of 22. During a battle with the Nubians, Humam Bay’s leg was crushed when his horse fell on him.  Now the elder Bay sat on the Council of Elders but had no other Medjai responsibilities.

Ardeth threw himself down on the pile of pillows next to his father and ran his hands through his long dark hair. “Abu, I think I have gotten in over my head.”

At that moment, Ardeth’s mother emerged from the tent’s sleeping area.  “I hear you went shopping today,” she greeted her son with a smile.

“It is not funny, Ume.  I now have a girl in my tent and I do not know what to do with her.”  His parents smiled at each other over his head.

“This is serious!”

His mother composed herself and looked down at her son.  “I’m sorry Ardeth, and I think I have an idea.”  She turned to her husband.  “By your leave,” she said, giving him a kiss on the top of his head.  Then she scurried out of the tent as fast as a six month pregnant woman could.

Humam chuckled to himself, remembering the first time his wife had said that to him.

_Humam Bay was known to be a bloodthirsty and merciless killer.  This reputation served him well.  As Chieftain of the Twelve Tribes of the Medjai, it his job to lead the warriors who protected Hamunaptra and the other sacred places of Egypt from treasure hunters, looters, and anyone else who would disturb them.  And if just the thought of finding oneself at the wrong end of the Medjai leader’s scimitar prevented some from undertaking such a foolhardy quest, all the better._

_The only problem was that Humam Bay couldn’t turn it off.  He was so used to spending his days barking orders at his men, galloping through the desert and dispensing the Medjai equivalent of justice, that his social life suffered.  Not that he had much of a social life.  At the age of 25 he knew it was well past the time he should consider taking a wife.  However, almost all the possible candidates literally shrank away in fear when they saw him approaching.  He was neither interested in these women nor the ones whose parents pushed them at him, hoping for an alliance with his noble house._

_There was, however, one girl who had caught his eye.  When Humam walked through the village and all the other women would lower their eyes as he passed, Amira looked straight at him as if challenging him to speak.  And he found he liked that.  So he liked it even more when, one day upon his return from patrol, he found her waiting with the ritual bowl of water for him._

_“Where is my mother?” he growled.  He always growled.  Normally, when a warrior returned to the village, his mother, wife, or sister would greet him with a bowl of water so he could drink and wash off the dust of the outside world._

_“She asked me to come in her stead,” replied the girl.  Almost as an afterthought she added “my lord.”  Then she smiled and Humam Bay felt as if his heart would explode, because it seemed she was smiling at HIM.  Not at Humam Bay the warrior, not at Humam Bay the Medjai Chieftain, but at Humam Bay the man.  Humam did not know why Allah had put this woman in his path but he was going to take advantage of his good fortune._

_The next day, Humam asked Amira’s father for permission to court her.  Soon, he fell into a routine.  When he was in the village, he would spend his days training and attending to his duties as Chieftain.  Evenings would find him seated on a pile of pillows in Amira’s tent, under the chaperonage of her mother in the next room.  Over the weeks, he taught her to play Senet.  At first, he would occasionally let her win so she would not be frustrated.  But lately, Humam found that Amira was winning at least half the time and he had to concentrate on the game to win at all.  This was difficult, as Humam had found he was much more interested in talking with Amira than keeping track of his pawns on the gameboard.  He was impressed her intelligence and by the fact she had an opinion on just about every topic and she was eager to share them._

_One evening, after a particularly heated game of Senet, Amira rose to get some refreshments.  As she turned to leave, Humam reached up and took her hand.  “You are supposed to bow and say “by your leave” when you leave my presence,” he said in a serious tone of voice._

_Amira looked down on him, shocked.  In all the time he had been courting her, Humam had never used the fact that he was Chieftain to compel her to do anything.  She tried to pull her hand out of his grasp but he just grabbed it tighter, a strange gleam in his eye.  Amira imagined this was the last thing doomed treasure hunters saw before meeting their death at the Medjai’s sword._

_Then Humam spoke again.  “The wife of the Chieftain needs to set an example for others,” he said, loosening his hold on her hand._

_It took Amira a moment to register what she had just heard.  Refreshments forgotten, she sank back to her knees on the pillows.  Humam now took both her hands in his.  “Amira,” he said in his most gentle voice. “Allah has blessed me by bringing you into my life.  Would you do me the honor marrying me?”_

_Amira looked at the man she had grown to love.  “Allah has blessed us both,” she replied softly.  “Of course I will marry you.”  Suddenly she jumped up._

_“Where are you going?”_

_“I need to tell my mother!” Amira said as the ran out of the room.  Just before she left, she turned to Humam.  “By your leave,” she said smiling with the smallest of bows._

_Of course Amira’s parents knew about the proposal.  Humam had asked for their daughter’s hand in the proper manner, offering a substantial bride price.  Her parents had been resigned to the idea that their daughter would never find a suitor.  She was too outspoken, too opinionated, too everything a traditional wife was not supposed to be.  She had had a few suitors but nothing ever came of it.  When their Chieftain requested permission to court Amira they had expected that he, like those before him, would become quickly disenchanted with her.  So when he asked their permission to marry her, Amira’s parents were stunned.   They happily gave their approval and the young couple was soon married._

_The marriage wrought a change in the Medjai Chieftain.  He stopped growling as much and even smiled on occasion, especially when his bride did something that amused him, which was often.  His people flourished under his benevolent, or what would pass as benevolent among the Medjai, leadership.  And for the first time in Hamun Bay’s adult life, he was content._

Ardeth and his father waited in a companionable silence for Amira to return.  Finally, Ardeth turned to the older man.

“Would you like to know how I got myself into this situation?” he asked.

“Very much.”

Ardeth took a deep breath and began.  “Every day, I protect Egypt and her treasures from evil.  It is what I, as a Medjai, have been destined to do.  I do it freely and with gladness in my heart.“

Ardeth’s father nodded.  He understood this, as all Medjai did.

“But today, when I saw that girl, and the evil man who said he was her father, I knew I had to do something.” 

“So you saved her,” his father replied.

“I had to do something,” Ardeth repeated.

Just then Amira returned, almost dragging her friend Fatima by the hand.

“Ardeth,” she said.  “I have at least a temporary solution to your problem.”

“Which problem is that?”  It was beginning to occur to the young Chieftain that he might have taken on more than he could handle.

“Why, the fact that you cannot keep that girl in your tent!” his mother replied.  This had not even occurred to Ardeth.  “Fatima and her husband have plenty of room, and she has offered to take, what’s her name?”

“That question remains to be answered,” replied Ardeth.

“Well, go get her!” Amira exclaimed.  

Ardeth returned to his tent to find the girl in almost the same spot as when he had left, except she had put her clothes back on and the bread and cheese were gone.  He did not see the knife on the ground and wondered for a moment whether the girl had taken it, but then he saw it. The girl had wiped it clean, or as clean as possible with her dirty robe, and replaced it on the table.

She shrank back as Ardeth put his hand out to her.  “Do not be afraid,” he said in a soothing voice.  “Come with me.  We are going to visit my parents and meet a friend who has offered to let you stay with her.”

A look of terror crossed the girl’s face.  “Are you giving me away?  Do I not please you?”  She started to pull up her robe again.

“Stop that!”  Ardeth’s voice came more harshly than he expected, and the girl whimpered and put her arm up to her face as if she expected to be struck.  “I am sorry I frightened you,” he said as softly as he could.  “You please me very much, but you cannot stay in the tent of a man to whom you are not related.  Fatima and her husband live right over there.”  He pointed to a tent not far from his own.   “They will provide you with food and clothing and a place to sleep until we figure out what to do with you.   Do not worry, I will make sure everything is alright.”  Ardeth breathed a silent prayer to Allah that he would be able to do just that.

Ardeth returned to his parents’ tent with the girl in tow.  Fatima was momentarily taken aback by the girl’s appearance, but her maternal instincts took over.  “Chieftain Bay has asked me to let you stay with my husband and me,” she said.  “[Ana esmi ](http://www.touregypt.net/translations/mynameis.wav) Fatima.  What’s your name?”

The girl shook her head.

“Well,” said Fatima brightly.  “Why don’t we call you….Jamila.  Do you like that name?”

For the first time, the girl smiled.  A shy smile, but a smile even so.  “Jamila,” she whispered almost to herself.  She nodded.  “That’s a pretty name.”

“Would you like to come with me?”  asked Fatima.  “You can bathe and put on some clean clothes, and then I will show you where you can sleep.” 

Jamila looked at Ardeth, silently asking his permission. He nodded and she left with Fatima, all the while looking back at the Medjai.

Humam patted the book he had been reading.  “It’s a book on ancient China.  They have some very interesting legends that are similar to some of ours.  There is one about a dragon emperor that I find especially fascinating.  As far as I can tell, he was something like the Scorpion King. I came across a proverb, Ardeth, that would apply to this situation.”  He ruffled through the pages.  “Ah here it is.  He read aloud: _"He who saves a life is responsible for it."_

The next day, Ardeth went before the Council of Elders.  They already knew about the girl and Ardeth explained that he wanted her to stay in the village for at least three months.  Normally, a non-Medjai was only allowed to stay in the village for a fortnight.  However, Ardeth was about to begin a trip to visit all the twelve tribes of the Medjai that would take him almost three months to complete.  The Council agreed, but reminded their Chieftain that when he returned, a decision would need to be made.

After leaving the Council’s tent, Ardeth decided to see how the girl was doing and made his way to Hatim and Fatima’s tent.  What he saw there astonished him.

Fatima had worked her magic on the girl.  Jamila’s hair was now clean and brushed, she had been bathed, and she was wearing a clean robe instead of the filthy rags of the day before.

“Whose clothes are these?” Jamila had asked when Fatima took the robe out of a storage chest that was filled with clothes.

“They were my daughter’s.”

“Is she….dead?” Jamila could not imagine anyone giving up such a robe unless she were dead, and Jamila considered it bad luck to wear a dead person’s clothes.”

“Oh no,” Fatima had laughed.  “She’s married and lives with the Seventh Tribe.  Akia is our Chieftain’s age.  These are clothes she wore when she was about your size.  I just never could bear to throw them out.”

Jamila had looked at the older woman, comprehension dawning.  “You sewed these,” she had said, seeing the beautiful workmanship.

Fatima had nodded.  “Perhaps I will sew one especially for you.  I’m sure Sayyidah Bay has some extra material that would make a fine robe for you.”

Judging by the transformation that had already taken place, Ardeth knew that between his mother and Fatima, the girl would be well taken care of. As he spent the next few days preparing to leave, he could not help but notice that every day, Jamila seemed less and less the fearful and ragged girl who had offered herself to him in his tent and more a “proper” Medjai woman.  She followed Fatima around like a puppy, trying to imitate her behavior and her speech.  When she wasn’t with Fatima, she was with Ardeth’s mother.

The day Ardeth and twelve of his warriors left the village he stopped at his parents’ tent to let them know he was leaving.  The commotion in the village had already alerted them, but the Medjai chieftain was a respectful and loving son and would not leave without a personal goodbye.  When he entered the tent, he saw that Jamila was there helping Amira knead some bread.  A bit of flour had found its way to her nose and without thinking, Ardeth reached over to brush it off.

The old Jamila would have shrunk back in alarm at the raised hand.  The new Jamila started to, but then realized whose hand was about to touch her face and stopped.

As for Ardeth, he felt something stir within him when he touched the girl’s nose.  He quickly said his goodbyes and beat a hasty retreat to the stable where his horse was waiting.

 _“Thank Allah I am wearing all these robes”_ he thought to himself.  _“If touching her nose makes me this hard……”_

***

The three month journey was for the most part uneventful.  The Medjai stopped at each of the encampments of the eleven other tribes.  There were usually decisions to be made about minor disputes which the elders of that particular tribe were more than happy to relinquish to their Chieftain.  And Ardeth actually enjoyed dispensing his own brand of justice.  He had watched his father and had learned to temper, or at least try to temper, his own tendency to be harsh and judgmental.   During his visit to the Seventh Tribe, Ardeth made sure to take time to personally visit with Fatima’s daughter to tell her about her new “sister”.  Akia was delighted.  “My ume needed a new project.  She’s been driving my father crazy!  Perhaps you will bring Jamila here for a visit sometime.”

Ardeth did not understand this last sentence.  Why would a Medjai chieftain  drag a girl halfway across the desert unless…..

“La, it is not like that,” he protested. 

Akia smiled.  She had known Ardeth since they were babies and could tell from the way he had gone on and on about Jamila that she was more than just a “girl”.

“Very well, Chieftain,” she replied, a smile still in her eyes. 

Just then, Akia’s three children came running into the tent.  The two boys and a girl skidded to a halt right before crashing into Ardeth. 

“Children,” Akia admonished them.  “Please be careful of our guest.”

The children knew who Ardeth Bay was and they all bowed.  Ardeth looked down at them and saw that the youngest, the girl, had tears in her eyes.  He bent down and picked her up.  “I did not mean to frighten you,” he said in his gentlest voice.  Apparently he had a way of frightening girls. 

“Your ume and I have known each other since we were your age and I wanted to stop by to see her while I was in your village.”  He looked down at the two boys.  Both had wooden scimitars on their waists.  It was customary for a boy to receive such a toy weapon when he was three years old. 

A smile came to Ardeth’s face.  “I had better to be nice to your sister,” he said to the boys.  “Or you will attack me with those.” 

The older of the two boys stepped forward bravely.  “She’s our sister and we have sworn to protect her with our lives!” He announced loudly.  His brother nodded in agreement.

Ardeth put the small girl back down.  “You will make great Medjai warriors someday,” he said solemnly.  “But for now, you need to obey your parents and your teachers.” 

Akia chuckled.  “Can you stay here and make sure they do that?” 

Ardeth, still solemn, turned to the children again.  “I will be receiving reports on your behavior and expect them all to be positive.”  The three children nodded up at him, eyes wide.

“Go back outside and play,” Akia told the children.  Then she turned to Ardeth.  “The children like you,” she said.  “You will be a good father someday.”

Ardeth spent another few minutes in Akia’s tent, giving her some letters from her mother and a bundle containing clothing for Akia and her children and Fatima had sewn.  Akia, in turn, had some letters for her family and friends back in the First Tribe.  She was not the only one to take advantage of the Medjai Chieftain’s willingness to carry messages and small packages from one tribe to another.  “Ardeth Bay, Medjai Postman,” he grumbled when Akia handed him the package of letters.  But he smiled as he said it, and Akia knew Ardeth encouraged communication between the different tribes.

The last stop the group of Medja made was in Cairo.  The men took advantage of their stay in the city to visit the souk to buy gifts for their families.  Ardeth had a long list of items Amira wanted. At one stall, he picked up a comb without thinking.  “Honored sir,” the shopkeeper was immediately upon him.  “This comb would be a beautiful gift for your lady.” 

Ardeth looked up as if he were waking from a dream.  He paid the shopkeeper the price he asked without bargaining and slipped the comb into a pocket of his robe.

Cairo offered other diversions besides shopping.  Some of the single men, and a few of the married ones, visited the brothels.  Although Ardeth had done so on other visits to Cairo, he refrained this time.  Somehow the thought of coupling with one of the women who worked in such a place no longer appealed to him.

Ardeth and his companions were happy to return to their village.  There was the usual celebration, family members running to greet the men.  Ardeth looked for his mother but she was not there.  Instead, he saw Jamila waiting for him, the customary bowl of water in her hands.

“Where is my mother?”  Ardeth asked.

Three months was a long time.  Although Jamila answered with downcast eyes, as would befit someone speaking with the Medjai Chieftain, the cringe was gone and she actually smiled.  “She’s in the healer’s tent, my lord.”

“What is wrong with her?” asked Ardeth, concern coloring his voice.

“Nothing, lord.  Her baby is coming.”

Just then Ardeth heard a baby’s cry and his father came out of the healer’s tent with a bundle in his arms.

“Ardeth!” Humam shouted. “You came home at just the right time!  Say hello to your new brother!”  Humam was very proud of himself.  Not only had he fathered a child in his later years, but he had assisted at his wife’s delivery and had even been allowed by the healer to cut his son’s umbilical cord.  This was not the first baby he had delivered.  Ardeth had been born in the middle of the desert while his parents were traveling home from a visit to the Second Tribe.  Humam thought it was much better for a baby to born in a bed with a healer present, but he was not going to miss the opportunity to bring his child into the world with his own hands.

Ardeth approached his father with some trepidation.  Although he liked children, this baby was tiny.  Humam unwrapped the blanket and for a moment Ardeth felt he was looking at himself in the mirror.  The baby looked exactly like him, down to the full head of silky black hair.

“No doubt who his father is,” chuckled Humam, indicating his still black full head of hair.  “Would you like to hold him?”

Ardeth took the infant gingerly in his arms.  As he touched his brother’s cheek softly with his finger, the baby turned his head and latched his mouth onto it.

“He’s a hungry one!” exclaimed Humam.  “I’d better get him back to his mother.”

***

The day before baby Yusef’s naming ceremony, Ardeth was called before the Council of Elders.  He knew they wanted to speak with him about Jamila, and as yet he had come up with no resolution to her situation.

“You know we have given you three months to make some sort of arrangement for the girl,” the head elder spoke.  “According to our laws, a non-Medjai cannot be allowed to stay here.  And even though she has not been privy to our secrets, it is most likely that she has heard things that would compromise our ability to protect the secret places should she repeat them to the wrong people.  So we cannot allow her to leave, either.  There remains only one other alternative.”

Ardeth could not believe what he was hearing.  Did they really mean to put Jamila to death?  His hand unconsciously began to grasp the hilt of his scimitar and his vision clouded.   His head was buzzing to the extent that he almost did not hear the next words spoken.

“Hatim and Fatima have decided to adopt the girl.”

Was he hearing this right?  No _“Let the desert take her”_?  Ardeth looked around in confusion, his hand still on his weapon.  Then he noticed that Hatim had entered the tent, a smile on his face.

“Jamila wanted to wait until you returned before we made this official,” the older Medjai said.  “Also, since you actually own her…….”

“The Medjai have not owned slaves since the time of the Pharaohs,”  Ardeth replied.  “What I gave to that man was done to free Jamila, not to buy her.”

Hatim rubbed his hands together in delight.  “Then we shall have two parties in one week!” 

Even though, and perhaps because, the Medjai, as Muslims, did not drink alcohol, their parties were something to behold, especially one to honor the birth of a son of the House of Bay.  A large canopy would be erected in the middle of the camp with numerous low tables arranged around an open space in the center.  The women of the village would spend days before the party cooking and baking, each one preparing her own special recipes.  It would be a great feast, augmented by the supplies Ardeth and brought back from Cairo.  There would be musicians, and some of the warriors would perform in sparring competitions, much to the enjoyment of the unmarried women.  These same women would take their turn performing, groups of them dancing, singing, or putting on skits.  Not a few romances began under the glowing torches that lit the village during one of these occasions.

Ardeth Bay was considered one of the best swordsmen in the village, and he had been persuaded by his parents to put on a demonstration at his brother’s party.  He had decided to reenact the story of a famous battle, the Battle of Kadesh. He would portray Rameses and his second in command, who Ardeth secretly believed was better with a scimitar than he was himself, would play the part of the Hittite king.  Medjai boys started pretending in mock battles such as this even before they were given their first wooden scimitars, and Ardeth and Musaid, not only his second in command but also his closest friend, needed only a bit of practice before they were ready to perform.

Yusef’s party was a great success, even though he slept through most of it.  Fatima had sewn a tiny Medjai robe for the infant, complete with veil, which he refused to keep on, and tiny bandoleers made out of the softest leather. 

When it came time for Ardeth and Musaid to put on their demonstration, they both removed their robes and tunics, leaving on only their trousers and boots, earning them numerous appreciative gazes from many of the women.  But somehow Ardeth was only interested in the glances of one in particular, and he saw her sitting with his parents.  Jamila was holding baby Yusef, giving Amira a break so the new mother could eat.  Even over the noise of the party, Ardeth could hear Jamila’s clear voice singing softly to the infant in her arms, and for a moment Ardeth imagined it was his child that was being held so tenderly.  He was broken out of his reverie by the voice of his friend. 

“Are you ready, Sayyid?” asked Musaid.  Ardeth then began to speak, telling the well-known but somewhat fictionalized story of Rameses victory over the Hittites.  At the end of the tale, the two men bowed to each other, then to their audience, and began to act out the final skirmish between Rameses and the Hittite king Mursili.  Unlike the other sparring demonstrations, both Ardeth and Musaid used scimitars with razor sharp edges.   Ardeth’s weapon was alloyed with gold as befit a Medjai Chieftain.  One false step by either man would have had deadly consequences, but neither man hesitated as they engaged in the mock battle. 

Jamila was glad she had an excuse to gaze at the Medjai Chieftain.  The fact that his well muscled torso was bare was an added bonus.  Ardeth’s tattoos glowed in the torchlight, and when he spun around to parry his attacker’s thrusts, his long dark hair seemed to move with a life of its own.  Jamila caught herself blushing as she imagined what that hair would feel like between her fingers and could not resist touching the head of the baby in her arms.

 _“Just like your brother,”_ she thought.

The demonstration was received with great applause.  After it was over, Ardeth approached the table where his parents and Jamila were sitting.  “That was a good show, my son,” Humam complimented.

“I learned from the best, my father.”  In his youth, Humam had been known as the most skilled warrior the Medjai had ever had.

Ardeth turned to Jamila and inclined his head briefly.  “Are you enjoying yourself tonight?” he asked gently. 

Jamila, noticing the sheen of perspiration on Ardeth’s skin, suddenly found her voice no longer worked.  She managed to nod, trying to keep from staring at the half naked man in front of her.  Ardeth appeared to have no idea the effect he was having on the girl, but Amira had definitely noticed.  Jamila had the same expression on her face that Amira had the first time she had seen Humam in a similar state of undress. 

_“He looks like a bull!”  Fatima said to her best friend._

_“Yes, he does,” Amira agreed in a dreamy voice._

_The two girls had gone on some flimsy pretense to the training area where some of the men were practicing.  Humam was demonstrating to a group of the younger warriors some disarming techniques._

_Fatima nudged her friend.  “I wonder if he is like a bull all over?” she whispered.  Amira elbowed Fatima in the ribs._

_“Fatima!  Don’t speak like that!”_

_“Well you will know soon enough,” Fatima replied, referring to Amira’s impending wedding.  “Are you still planning to….you know…..?”_

_“Yes, Humam is very traditional when it comes to such things.  But it’s driving me crazy because he won’t tell me when, so I have to stay dressed up all the time, even when I go to bed.  It would be so awkward if…..”  Both girls started giggling at the thought._

_Humam turned when he heard Amira’s laughter.  When she caught his attention she covered her eyes, pretending to be embarrassed, but Humam could see her peeking at him between her fingers._

_Humam knew he was a fine specimen of a man.  He was tall, with a muscular chest and muscular arms due to his years of weapons practice.  A full beard covered the lower half of his face, partially obscuring a mouth that seemed perpetually in a scowl except when he looked at his bride-to-be.  That mouth now quirked into a quick smile before Humam turned back to his men._

_He indicated one of the warriors facing him.  “Come at me,” he ordered.  The man, even though he was armed with both practice scimitar and dagger, hesitated.  Humam was unarmed.  “Come on, I won’t hurt you. Much.”  Finally the younger warrior gathered his courage and attacked.  A few seconds later, he lay on the ground.  Humam had both the scimitar and dagger, the former aimed at the other man’s throat.  Humam glanced over at Amira, gratified by the grin of approval on her face, then dropped both weapons on the ground._

_“Now practice what I have shown you.”  The men immediately paired off and began to try to imitate the moves Humam had taught them._

_Humam quickly made his way over to where the two girls were standing.  “Fatima,” he bowed slightly.  “Amira,” his voice was not quite a growl but more of a purr, and Amira could feel it all the way down to her toes._

_“My lord,” both girls replied._

_Humam reached for Amira’s hand and she blushed furiously.  He placed a small object in her palm and closed her fingers around it, then bent over to whisper in her ear.  Without another word he turned and walked back to his men._

_“What did he say to you?” Fatima asked._

_Amira opened her hand.  In it was a small seamstress’s blade.  “Tonight,” she whispered.  “He said tonight.”_

_Fatima reached over and hugged her friend.  “Come to my tent later.  I’ve been sewing something special for you.  It will really, um, bring out the bull in him!”  She clapped her hand over her mouth, not quite scandalized over what she had implied.  “This is all so romantic,” Fatima continued.  “I hope that if Hatim ever gets the courage to ask me, we do it the same way.”_

Amira glanced over at her husband. _“Thanks to Allah, he still has that effect on me today,”_ she thought, the baby beside her proof of just that.

 ***

A few days later there was a party for Jamila.  This was a somewhat smaller affair, attended by friends and family of Hatim and Fatima, as well as Ardeth and his family.  Fatima had outdone herself and Jamila was dressed in a robe befitting a queen.  Her hair had been brushed at least the proverbial hundred times and shone like black satin.  Jamila had even been allowed to apply some kohl around her eyes.  “Just this once,” chided Fatima.  “Just because it’s such a special occasion.”  Fatima knew that she found it hard to deny the girl anything.  In the short while Jamila had been there she had become as dear to Fatima as her older daughter.

After a brief ceremony, Jamila was allowed to open the pile of gifts her guests had brought. Fatima had been teaching her to read English, and a number of the packages contained books.  Most of the other presents were items that had been made by the people of the village: shawls, pillows, a set of clay bowls, some bath oils made from flowers and herbs that grew nearby, and a small dagger made by the village weaponsmith.  “A lady’s dagger,” he told her.  Tears sprang to Jamila’s eyes.  No one in her past life had ever called her a lady.

The last gift she opened was the one from Ardeth.  “Oh it’s beautiful!” exclaimed Jamila as she put it in her hair.  “Shukran, my lord.”

Ardeth had had a long discussion about the comb with his mother.  “It’s not an appropriate gift for a man to give a woman he is not related to,” she had told him.  “It’s too personal.  It’s the kind of gift a man would give if he were cour…..”

Ardeth ignored the last sentence.  “It is not a personal gift,” he insisted.  “It is being given at a celebration along with many other gifts.  And it is my right as Chieftain to give whatever gifts I wish to whomever I desire!”

Amira knew she was treading on dangerous ground.  At one time, she would have teased her son about his romantic feelings.  But at the age of 25, Ardeth was no longer the callow youth mooning about the village over this girl or that, and quite honestly, Amira wanted grandchildren. So she ignored the double entendre in Ardeth’s last words. 

“You are correct, my son.  Thank you for pointing out my error in thinking.”

Ardeth was baffled.  His mother never backed down.  The Medjai Chieftain had inherited his stubbornness in a double dose, both from his mother and his father. But as a warrior, he knew to take his victories however they occurred, so he did not press her for an explanation.

The day after Jamila’s party found Ardeth in his parents’ tent.  His father, as usual was reading.  This time it was a book of folklore from different cultures.

“Abu,” Ardeth began.  He was in the habit of reverting to his childhood names for his parents when he needed their comfort or advice. “I need your advice.”

“Is this one chieftain to another or something more personal?”

“Personal,” the younger man mumbled.  Then, making up his mind, he spoke with a rush.  “Last night at the party one of the warriors approached Jamila and started talking to her.  It took all my self-control not to go over and rip his head from his shoulders.”

Humam chuckled.  “Perhaps you were jealous?”

“No, that’s impossible.  She’s just a girl……a beautiful girl……with a beautiful voice……and…….”  Ardeth stopped, realizing what he was saying.  Suddenly he smiled.

“That is it!  Shukran, father!”  And with that he rushed out of the tent.

Amira had heard the exchange from the other room where she was putting Yusef down for his nap.  She walked over to her husband and put her hand on his shoulder.  “You are a worse matchmaker than I am!”

Her husband rewarded her with a smile.  “I want grandchildren, too, my wife.  And perhaps another baby of our own?” 

Amira laughed.  “You know we have to wait another five weeks.  Maybe you should take another wife, a young one who could give you lots of babies.” Baby Yusef had been a complete surprise, given Amira’s age, one that she doubted would repeat itself.

It was allowed for Medjai to have up to four wives, although almost none of them took more than one.  The exception would be if the husband of a woman with small children died.  In that case, her sister’s husband would normally marry her, in word if not in deed, so that she and the children would be provided for.

Humam playfully pushed his wife’s hand away.  “I think one of you is almost more than I can handle.  Come sit on my lap and we will discuss the first thing that comes up.”

“Five weeks,” Amira admonished.  But she sat on her husband’s lap anyway.  After 26 years of marriage they both knew that sex was merely a small part of the love they felt for each other.

Ardeth managed to wait until after the evening meal to visit Jamila’s tent.  He had bathed and trimmed his beard and put on a fresh set of robes.  He approached the tent and stopped at the door.  “Hatim,” he called.  “I would speak with you if you are available.”

Hatim immediately came to the door.  “Please enter, Chieftain.”  He showed Ardeth in and indicated a pillow where he could sit.

“I have come to discuss something with you regarding your daughter Jamila.”

A look of alarm crossed Hatim’s face.  “I hope the elders have not decided to negate our adoption,” he began.

“La, la, nothing like that.  It is of a more personal nature.”  Then Ardeth stopped, almost afraid to go on.

The silence grew.  At last, Hatim spoke up.

“A personal nature, lord?” he asked quietly.

Ardeth Bay had always prided himself on his fearlessness.  Not even He-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named caused his heart to pound as hard as it was pounding now.  And not only was his heart pounding, Ardeth felt as if it were constricting his throat, impairing his ability to speak.

“I wish to court your daughter,” he finally managed to say in almost a whisper.

 _“There that was easy. Maybe I should try again, this time louder so Hatim can actually hear me.”_   He thought.  He cleared his throat.

“I wish to court your daughter.”

Hatim pretended to be thinking about this, drawing out Ardeth’s agony.  After a long moment he smiled at the younger man.  “Of course, Chieftain, as long as Jamila is agreeable.”

Ardeth rose to his feet.  “Very well.  Please tell her that I will come to call on her tomorrow night, if she wishes.”  With that, he rose and left the tent.

Once he got outside, Ardeth realized his hands were shaking.  _“That went well,”_ he said to himself.  _“Not only did I sound like an idiot, I moved like that Frankenstein monster.  Great.  Wonderful.  And I have to go back there tomorrow night?  Wait a minute, I get to go back there tomorrow night and see Jamila!”_

Watching his older son, Humam was reminded of his own courting days.  He remembered how his feet would propel him to Amira’s tent each evening, much as Ardeth’s feet now seemed to find their own way to Jamila’s tent.  He was proud of his son for honoring the old traditions and spending the time to gradually get to know his, hopefully, future bride.  Given Jamila’s past, he was especially gratified to see how slowly his son was taking the relationship.

Jamila was learning to read English, and Ardeth, an avid reader himself, spent many evenings reading aloud to the girl or helping her with her studies.  The Medjai firmly believed that all children, both boys and girls, should receive an education.  Ardeth had spent three years at Oxford before his father’s accident compelled him to return to Egypt and take his place as chieftain. 

One of Ardeth’s favorite authors was Charles Dickens, and he and Jamila were now starting to work their way through _Great Expectations_. 

“It was the best of time, it was the….” Jamila looked up at Ardeth. 

“Worst,” he supplied.

“If that is _worst_ , than why is _first_ spelled with an _i_? And what about _cursed_?  Why is English so difficult?  Arabic is much easier!”

“It is important to know how to read and write English. When you are….. _when you are my wife you will help me communicate with outsiders.  Oh I hope I did not say that aloud!_ When you are able to read and write English you will be able to appreciate more of the world around you.  _There that sounded better.  Almost believable.  Only a little bit like one of my stuffy old professors.”_

Ardeth found that he was forever censoring his words.  Sometimes at the end of the evening he would have a headache from talking to both Jamila and what he called his “Inner Ardeth”.Any mention of love, marriage, or sex was immediately relegated to private conversations with himself.   At night, alone in his tent, he would whisper all the things he wanted to say to Jamila, as if she were there with him, in his bed.  Needless to say, the days of sleeping on his stomach were long gone.

Fatima had been sewing something.  When Jamila tried to see what it was, Fatima gently pushed her hand away.  “It’s a surprise for you,” was all the older woman would say.

One afternoon, Ardeth took Jamila for a walk down to the stream that ran through the oasis that was the home of the First Tribe.  Fatima followed close behind, providing chaperonage.  “I have not had this much exercise since Akia was courting,” she groused to her husband.  Hatim knew Fatima was not really upset because he could see the laughter in her eyes.

Jamila had packed a basket of food which she had made herself.  Under Fatima’s patient tutelage, Jamila could now cook, sew, read, and do sums.  Fatima and her husband were amazed at what a quick study Jamila was.  And Jamila seemed to have an unquenchable thirst for knowledge.

Jamila pulled her knife out of her waistband to cut a piece of dried meat.  She looked over at Ardeth, who was sitting across from her on the bank.

“Why do they call this a lady’s knife, lord?”  she asked. 

Ardeth had told Jamila that in private, she could call him by his given name, but in public, she was still to call him lord, or chieftain, or Sayyid.  Sometimes, Jamila would forget, and when they were alone she would start to call him My Lord, then realize what she was saying and call him My…..Ardeth.  This would always elicit a soft smile from the Medjai Chieftain, as he thought that being considered Jamila’s Ardeth was one of the nicest things that had ever happened to him.

Ardeth took the knife from Jamila’s hand, his long fingers briefly caressing her palm.  Small touches like this were allowed between courting couples as long as they were being supervised.

“This is the kind of knife a lady would carry and use to……protect her honor.”

Jamila’s face fell.  “Then I have no use for it,” she said, tears filling her eyes.  “My honor has long been taken.”

Ardeth had heard Jamila denigrate herself before, but this time, something in him seemed to snap.  He jumped up and grabbed the girl by the hand, earning him a startled look from both Jamila and her mother. 

“I cannot do this anymore!” he all but shouted.  “I cannot court you anymore!”

Tears rolled down Jamila’s face.  “I understand, my lord,” she said between sniffles. 

“Where is your father?” he demanded.

“Down at the stables, lord.” 

Ardeth half pulled, half dragged Jamila to the stables, ignoring her tears and whimpers.  When they got there, they were met by Hatim and a number of the other warriors who were curious as to what the commotion was about.

“Hatim,”  Ardeth said.  “I wish to speak with you concerning your daughter.”

Hatim looked over at Jamila, who had stopped crying but whose face was still stained with tears.  “Do you wish to speak someplace more privately, Sayyid?”

Ardeth looked around at the audience.  “Here will be acceptable.”  He took a breath.  “I have been courting your daughter these many months and I have come to a decision.  I no longer wish to court her.”

A fresh cascade of tears made its way down Jamila’s face.  There were murmurs from the men watching.

“As you wish, my lord.” Replied Hatim, his eyes betraying something that was not sadness.

“No, I wish to take her as my wife.” 

The murmurs around them grew louder and Hatim, the smile in his eyes growing stronger, managed to keep a straight face.

“Why do you want to marry her, Chieftain?”

“Among Medjai women, she is a pearl beyond price.  She is my first thought when I awaken and my last thought at night.  And I am very much in love with her.”

Hatim was beginning to enjoy himself.  He made a show of considering the proposal.  “What of the bride price?” he asked. “My wife and I also love our daughter and her presence would be sorely missed”  Fatima, standing to the side seemed to be having trouble decided whether to smile or cry, and decided to do both.

“Fifty horses of your choice, except the two I normally ride.”  Normally, ten horses would be considered adequate, and even then, the prospective bridegroom would choose the horses.  Fifty horses was beyond extravagant.

Hatim knew Ardeth was making this offer to show how much Jamila was valued and realized that by proposing before an audience, Ardeth was making sure the whole village would know about his proposal almost immediately.

Hatim turned to his daughter.  “Is this what you wish, child?” he asked gently.

Jamila’s tears were now tears of happiness.  “Aiwa, father.”

“Very well, then we shall see about the arrangements.”  Hatim looked around him.  “Don’t you men have anything better to do?”  The other Medjai quickly dispersed and Hatim knew the news of his daughter’s betrothal before the hour was up.

Ardeth took Jamila’s hand and pressed it to his lips.  This was the first time he had kissed her in any way.  “I am sorry if I embarrassed you,” he whispered.  “But I could not wait any longer.”

Jamila looked up at Ardeth, and a playful expression crossed her face.

“I would wish that the next time you plan to do something like this you let me know in advance, my……”  she paused, then whispered the last word. “Ardeth.”

***

Ardeth continued to visit Jamila almost every day, but as they were betrothed, they were allowed a little more privacy.  They had worked their way through Bleak House and Oliver Twist.  Jamila especially felt sorry for the orphans because of her unhappy past.  It was December when they started reading A Christmas Carol, and Jamila was entranced with the idea of snow.

“I will take you to England after we are married to visit my friends the O’Connells,” Ardeth said, gently stroking Jamila’s hair as she sat next to him.  

“Does the snow really cover the ground like the sand does here?”  Jamila asked.

“Not always, _kalila_.  During some months the earth is green and covered in flowers.”

“I should like to see that, too.  But I think I should like to see the snow most of all.”  Jamila turned back to her reading.  She was near the end of the book, when Tiny Tim offers a blessing at the Christmas Dinner, but she changed the words a bit.  “And Allah bless us, every one,” she said, smiling at Ardeth.  “Now it’s your turn to read to me.”

Ardeth took a small volume out of his robe.  “This book is the _Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam,”_ he said.

“Does it have snow in it?  Or orphans?”

“No,” Ardeth cleared his throat.  “It is a book of poems.  Some are love poems, and I would read them to you.” 

Jamila settled herself with her head in Ardeth’s lap and looked up at him lovingly.  She loved to hear Ardeth read.  His voice would wash over her like dark velvet and make her tingle in places she did not even know she had.  If she noticed a growing bulge under the Medjai’s robes, she chose to ignore it.

As Ardeth read the quatrains, Jamila’s eyes started to close and before long she was asleep.  Ardeth gently disentangled himself from her and, after kissing her on the forehead, left the tent.  He imagined he could still feel Jamila’s head in his lap as he made his way to the bathing tent for a cold bath.  Sleep would not come easy to him tonight.

***

“Abu, I need some advice.” 

Humam was just leaving the tent of the Council of Elders, having spent the day hearing the various minor complaints that would always arise in a village of 1,000 people.  He was very pleased with the way the session had gone, especially one case in particular.  A man’s stallion had covered another man’s mare while they were both in pasture, and both men were claiming the unborn foal.  The elders had decided that if the foal was male, the mare’s owner should take him.  If the foal was female, she would go to the stallion’s owner.  Both men were advised to let the horses breed again, with whoever had not taken the first foal receiving the next issue.  “Advice is what I do,” Humam replied jovially.

“You know I will be getting married soon, and I need to know how to do it.”

Humam stopped short, astonished.  His son was 25 years old.  He knew Ardeth had occasionally visited the pleasure houses in Cairo.  Yet he was now asking how to do it?

Ardeth saw the look on his father’s face and realized the older man had misunderstood him.  “No,” he corrected himself. “I need some advice on  the..…bride capture.”

“Does Jamila know your plans?”

“I have spoken with her about this.  We want to honor our traditions and I want to make sure I do it correctly.”

_“Tonight,” Humam had told Amira, slipping the blade into her hand._

_Amira’s hands were shaking after she had donned the robe her friend Fatima had sewn for her.  It was almost transparent, and she realized it would indeed “bring out the bull” in her intended.  Amira had told her parents she was tired and had retired to her sleeping chamber early.  However, she was not sleeping.  Using the blade, she carefully sliced through the threads attaching one part of the tent to another, creating an opening large enough for a man the size of Humam Bay to slip through._

_The next morning, Amira’s parents found their daughter gone.  Her father gathered his friends and kinsmen and rode out into the desert.  Not far from the village they found Humam’s tent.  They surrounded it, brandishing their weapons, calling to Humam to show himself._

_Humam came out of the tent in just his trousers, his scimitar in his hand._

_“I have taken this woman according to our ancient traditions and she is mine now.  No other man may touch her without permission.  I challenge any man who disputes my right to step up now!”_

_At this point, Amira peeked out of the tent, a smile on her face.  As far as she was concerned, there was nothing more arousing than the site of her new husband proclaiming his possession of her._

_The other men quickly backed down.  If there had been another suitor, he might have accepted the challenge at this point, but not that day, and not against Humam Bay._

_With the tradition satisfied, the men congratulated Humam and Amira, mounted their horses, and rode home.  The newlyweds would spend another few days in their tent, enjoying the privacy that was not available back in the village._

_Ardeth was born nine months later.  A number of Medjai babies were said to have been “conceived in the sand,” and Ardeth was one of them._

Humam related this story to his son.  He explained that one of the reasons the tradition still endured was that it gave a new couple the privacy they would not have in a tent in a village of 1000 people. “And make sure you do not destroy any tents,” he said, laughing at the memory of himself and his new bride carefully repairing the rip Amira had made. 

“And son,” he continued. “When you come to your bride, do it with love and gentleness, no matter how hot your blood is.”  Humam remembered how he had felt after that ride through the desert.  He had wanted to throw Amira down on the sand and ravish her before even setting up the tent.  But he waited, wanting his new wife’s first sexual experience to be a positive one.  Actually, over the next few days, he had provided Amira with many positive experiences, but he did not feel it necessary to discuss those details with his son.

“One more request, my father,” Ardeth spoke as they approached Humam’s tent.  “May I borrow one of your extra bedrolls?  Mine has been through too many desert campaigns to be appropriate for…”

Humam spared his son the necessity to continue.  “Of course, my son, I will ask your mother to get one ready for you.”

The following morning, Ardeth and Musaid were walking around the village on their morning rounds.  As they approached the training area, they could hear the sounds of clacking sticks.

“I believe my wife is teaching a class,” Musaid said.  “Would it be possible to watch?”

Ardeth knew that Jamila had been trading babysitting Natira and Musaid’s three year old twin daughters for weapons classes in both staff and knife, and he was eager to see how the classes were progressing.

Natira was a true Medjai warrior, down to the tattoos.  While there was no law that stated women could not become warriors, only about one in a hundred years chose that path. Natira had five older brothers, and it had seemed natural to her to follow in their path.  Ardeth was glad Natira was a member of his tribe as she was able to give weapons lessons to the other women without worrying about a breach in decorum.

Musaid thought his wife was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.  Her facial tattoos were erotic to him, and he thought the other unadorned women of the village were pale in comparison.  Their two daughters had already begun playing with toy weapons, and Musaid fully expected a time when there would be three female warriors in his household.

“Isn’t she beautiful, Sayyid,” Musaid said to Ardeth as they watched his wife demonstrate a riding stance.

Ardeth’s eyes were on Jamila, who was standing in the line of students.  “Yes she is,” he agreed. 

The men turned to each other, each realizing that they were referring to a different woman. 

Natira saw her husband outside the ring and greeted him with a bow.  “My husband, would you honor us with a demonstration?”

Musaid did not have to be asked twice.  He entered the ring and chose a practice scimitar from the pile at one end. 

“The reason we women need to be able to defend ourselves is that sometimes we are in the village unprotected,” Natira began.  “We may not have weapons, but we can always lay our hands on a staff.  A tent pole.  Part of a cooking tripod.  A stable rake.   Musaid is going to pretend that he is a bandit and I will show you what happens.”

Natira and her husband bowed to each other.  Then Natira turned from him and knelt on the ground.  “Da, di, da, I am doing some woman thing and not paying any attention.”  Musaid quietly crept up behind her, weapon in hand.

“I am a bandit come to kidnap you for my harem!”

Natira grabbed the staff that was conveniently on the ground beside her and rose gracefully.  Musaid lunged at her with his scimitar, but Natira parried his thrust easily.  Musaid tried again, and was again thwarted.  Natira easily deflected each of her husband’s moves.  After a few minutes, Musaid pretended he was winded and started to swing his weapon erratically.

“Do you see what I am doing?”  Clack, the sound of wood on metal.  Natira spun the staff around, using over and under movements of her hands.

“I am tiring him out.”  Another clack. 

“And the more tired your opponent is, the more reckless he becomes, and the easier it is to….”  Natira suddenly changed her grip on the staff, sliding her hands down to one end.

“Unhorse him!” She made a low sweep and Musaid found himself on the ground.  Natira followed with a sliding thrust, stopping mere inches from her husband’s throat, then immediately dropped the staff and extended her hand to help her husband back to his feet. 

“That was fun,” she whispered to him.  “Perhaps we can continue this lesson later.  Jamila has offered to take the girls for the night.”

“You would make a good addition to my harem, but I would need to tame you first!”  Musaid whispered back, clearly enjoying himself.

“You could try, my husband…….”

When Musaid returned to his place at Ardeth’s side, he noticed his chieftain looking at him quizzically and realized Ardeth had heard the exchange between himself and Natira.

“Is it always like that, Musaid?”

“I hope so, my lord. I certainly hope so,” replied Musaid, gazing at his wife with a look of love in his eyes.

The two men stayed to watch the rest of the class.  Ardeth was proud of the way Jamila handled her staff.  She treated the lesson with the same singleminded attention she gave to everything she wanted to learn.  When the class was over, Ardeth made his way over to Jamila.

“I enjoyed watching you,” Ardeth said.

“Shukran, lord,” Jamila replied, blushing.  As she spoke, she idly ran her hand up and down the polished staff.

 _“Would that it was my staff she was handling that way,”_ Ardeth thought to himself, once again thankful for the robes which hid his arousal. He saw another cold bath in his future.  “I, um, need to finish my rounds,” Ardeth said abruptly.  He was allowed to kiss his future wife on the hand but when he raised it to his lips, he turned it over, kissing the palm.  Jamila’s blush deepened and she held on to the staff as if fearing she would collapse.  Ardeth turned away in a swirl of dark robes to join his friend, and Jamila was immediately surrounded by the other girls.

“He’s so handsome!”  “You’re so lucky!”  “I wish I was betrothed to someone like that!”  Jamila smiled and nodded but her mind was elsewhere, thinking about the feel of Ardeth’s soft lips on her hand.

That evening, when Ardeth arrived at Jamila’s tent, Musaid’s two daughters were already there.

“It’s like trying to herd kittens!”  Jamila exclaimed, laughing.  She and Fatima were attempting to make cookies with the girls but more dough ended up in their mouths, hair, and on their clothes than on the oven trays.  “And even if we get any ready to bake, there’s that long walk over to the kitchen tent.  I think we’ll have to tie the girls together.”  Although Fatima had a small stove in her tent, she preferred to use one of the big communal ovens for baking.

 “Which one is which?” Ardeth asked.  The twins were identical.

“I have no idea.  I don’t think they even know half the time.  I just call them both Sarra and figure I’ll be correct half the time.”

Ardeth bent over in time to catch a hurtling ball of little girl who was running past.  She squealed in delight as Ardeth held her up in the air.

“What is your name?” he asked in his most serious Medjai Chieftain voice.

“Sarra,” answered the giggling child.

Ardeth turned to the other girl who was busy smearing dough on her tunic.

“And what is your name?” 

“It’s Sarra!  We’re both Sarra!”

Sarra number one had started squirming in Ardeth’s arms and he put her down.  She immediately ran over to her sister and they both dissolved in a fit of giggles.

“Kittens,” Ardeth repeated.  “I see what you mean.”

Ardeth and Jamila spent the evening taking care of the two girls.  They raided Fatima’s sewing basket for scraps and the girls played dress-up.  Fatima found some of Akia’s old toys in a chest and let the girls play with them.  “Carefully,” she admonished. 

Before long, it was time for bed.  Jamila and Ardeth managed to get the two girls together in the same bedroll.

“Would you like a song or a story before you go to sleep?”  asked Jamila.

“A song!” said Sarra number one.

“A story!” added her sister.

Jamila and Ardeth smiled at each other.  “I will tell them a story if you will sing for us,” suggested Ardeth.  He loved to hear Jamila sing.  Jamila quickly agreed, and the two of them settled down on either side of the twins.

“Once upon a time,” Ardeth began. “There was an evil man named Imhotep.”

“Oh this is one of our favorite stories!” exclaimed Sarra number two.

By the time Ardeth had gotten to the part about the plague of boils, both girls were sound asleep. 

“Are you sure that is a proper story for little girls?” Jamila whispered.

“They may be little girls, but they are Medjai little girls.  Now, about that song?”

***

“Please convey our thanks to Jamila for watching the girls last night, Sayyid,” Musaid said to Ardeth the next morning as they ate breakfast.  “I understand you were quite a success as a storyteller.”

“I thought it would be a good idea to practice,”  Ardeth replied.  He indicated a large bruise on the other man’s arm.  “And you, my friend, did you also have a successful evening?”

Musaid laughed.  “Any time I bed my wife and neither of us ends up in the healer’s tent counts as a success.  But there is something I need to tell you.  Natira is with child again, and will not be able to go out on patrol until after she gives birth.”

“Congratulations!  Will it be twins again?”

“By Allah I hope not.  Well, maybe I hope so.  Actually I do not care, as long as the baby, or babies, are healthy.”

“I will make sure Natira is on restricted duty for as long as she feels is necessary.  Will she continue her training classes?”

“Yes, it will give her something to do.  I cannot imagine her sitting around sewing baby clothes!”

Ardeth laughed at the thought of the Medjai warrior wielding needle and thread instead of a scimitar, but then his expression turned serious. “Musaid, I would ask of you a favor.”

“Of course, my lord.”

“I will be away from the village for a few days and I want to make sure you will be available to take over my duties while I am gone.”

“With pleasure, my lord.  May I ask where you are going?”

Ardeth smiled slyly.  “I am going hunting.  For a little bird.”

Musaid grinned back at him.  He knew that Ardeth’s nickname for Jamila was Little Bird.

“I shall be honored to serve in your stead while you are otherwise engaged.”  If Ardeth had not been his chieftain, Musaid would have poked him in the ribs to emphasize that he understood what Ardeth was talking about.  Instead, he put his hand on the other man’s arm.  “You may depend on me, Sayyid.”

After breakfast, Ardeth and Musaid continued their circuit of the village.  Ardeth only had half his mind on his surroundings.  What he was really doing was looking for Jamila.  He finally saw her all by herself near the laundry tent hanging up clothes.  Excusing himself from Musaid, he quietly approached the girl.

“Ardeth!” she exclaimed when she saw him.  He put his fingers to her lips.

“Do not say anything, and do not let anyone know you spoke with me today.  After supper, go down to the stream and wait for me.  You know the place.”

Jamila nodded silently, and Ardeth slipped away, returning to Musaid’s side.

“So it begins,” said Musaid.

Ardeth held his fingers, the same ones that he had held so recently to Jamila’s lips, up to his mouth and licked them.  In a rare moment of candor, he turned to his friend.  “I am afraid, my friend.  I love her so much, but I fear that I will hurt her, that I will be unable to control myself.  She has been hurt in the past.  But every time I see her, touch her…..”  he groaned despite himself. 

“We are Medjai, my lord.  You will know what to do.”

Cold comfort, when all Ardeth could think about was burying himself inside Jamila, taking her while she screamed his name to the desert.

That night, Jamila barely touched her food.  After supper she returned to her sleeping area.  She changed her clothes and put up her hair, using the comb Ardeth had given her.

“I’m going for a walk,” she told her parents.

“Are you meeting the Chieftain?” asked her mother, ready to accompany her daughter if necessary.  Even though Jamila and Ardeth were betrothed, it was still not allowed for them to be alone together.

“No, my lord has other matters to attend to tonight,”  Jamila did not look at her mother, knowing Fatima would see the lie on her face.

“Well,” Fatima said brightly, “Don’t be out too late.”

After Jamila left, Hatim looked at his wife and winked.  “I think I will go sharpen my scimitar.”

“Good idea, my husband.  And I still have some sewing to do.”

***

Ardeth stopped short when he came upon Jamila sitting by the stream.  If he had believed in water nymphs he would have sworn he was looking at one.  The robe she was wearing was the same blue green color as the water in the middle of the stream.  Her hair was up, exposing a white neck the seemed to be begging to be kissed. 

Tying his horse to a nearby tree, Ardeth crept up on his prey.

Jamila noticed Ardeth’s reflection in the water but pretended she hadn’t.  She ignored the rustling of robes behind her, concentrating instead on a book she was pretending to read.  Suddenly, she felt a hand clap to her mouth and another one grab her by the waist.  She managed to turn her head to look at her attacker, but all she could see was his eyes.  The rest of his face was veiled.  Ardeth’s eyes.  She would know them anywhere, having gotten lost in their chocolate depths more than once.

“Do not cry out or struggle, and I will not hurt you,” the man growled.  

Jamila nodded her head in acquiescence. Ardeth picked her up in his arms and carried her over to his horse.   After arranging her on the saddle, he mounted behind her. 

Jamila felt like she was going to swoon as the pair rode away from the village.  Being carried off on horseback into the night by a masked stranger was the most romantic thing that had ever happened to her.  Ardeth removed his veil, and Jamila could feel his soft breath and the roughness of his beard on the nape of her neck as he whispered of his love to her. He controlled the horse with one hand, the other hand tight around her waist.   Jamila turned her head towards him and Ardeth leaned down and placed a brief kiss on her lips. 

“Soon, _kalila_ , we are almost there,” Ardeth murmured.  Jamily snuggled up against him, feeling warm despite the coolness of the desert night.

Ardeth had picked out a place in the desert ahead of time.  To outsiders, one part of the desert looked pretty much like any other part.  But Ardeth knew this particular spot was not far from a small spring and sheltered by an outcropping of rock nearby.  He also knew that it would be easy for the other Medjai to find him here.

As Ardeth began to set up the tent, Jamila walked over to help.

“No, _kalila_ , you are a captive.” Ardeth said with a smile.  “Captives do not help erect their own prison.”

“May I at least help with the fire, my lord?  Captives do get cold sometimes.”

Both the fire and the tent were soon ready, and Ardeth took Jamila gently by the hand, leading her into the tent.  But when she saw the bedroll on the ground, a look of fear crossed her face and she pulled her hand from Ardeth’s grasp.

Ardeth was not surprised.  He had been hoping Jamila would be as eager to consummate their marriage as he was, but he knew that would probably not be the case.

“Come sit with me, _kalila_ ,” Ardeth gently took Jamila’s hand again.  “That is all we have to do.  Just sit here and talk, as if we were in your parents’ tent.”

The beast inside Ardeth was saying to him _“Just rip off her clothes and have at her!  There is no one here to stop you!”_ It took all his self control for Ardeth to ignore those thoughts.  Instead, he took both of Jamila’s hands and looked softly into her eyes.

“My love, do not be afraid.  We will not do anything you do not wish to do.  I would rather hurt myself than do anything to hurt you.”  He gently took one hand and stroked Jamila’s cheek with it, then leaned forward to place a chaste kiss on her lips.

Jamila had tears in her eyes.  She loved this man with all her heart and she wanted to please him, but every time she thought about sharing a bed with him the memories of the men who had used her in the past came flooding back.

Jamila reached up to touch Ardeth’s face the way he was touching hers.  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.  “You deserve a better wife than me. One who can give you what you want.”

Ardeth turned his head so that his lips were touching Jamila’s fingers.  “All I want is you,” he whispered back to her.

Ardeth’s gentleness soon calmed Jamila’s fears.  He steadfastly ignored what “Inner Ardeth” was exhorting him to do and just held Jamila, stroking her hair, placing soft kisses on her face and hands.  Eventually, he maneuvered her so that they were both lying on the bedroll, Jamila’s back pressed to Ardeth’s chest and his arms around her. 

“Sleep, my little bird,” he said.  “Having you here next to me is more than I could ever desire.”

Ardeth awoke in the middle of the night.  He had removed his robes earlier and, clad in just his trousers and tunic, it was apparent he had an erection.  He looked down at the girl in his arms.  _“Take her!  Take her now!  That is what you want to do,”_ he thought. Instead, he got up quietly so as not to wake Jamila and went outside the tent.  In the dark, he brought himself relief, imagining in was Jamila’s soft hands on him and now his own rough ones.

The sun came up the next morning and so did Ardeth’s erection.  When he woke, Jamila was looking at him curiously.

“What is that?” she asked shyly, pointing to the obvious bulge between Ardeth’s legs.  She seemed much more relaxed than she had the night before.

Ardeth could not believe that Jamila had never seen a man’s arousal before. 

“When you, when the men…..”

“I never looked.  I just did this.”  Jamila rolled onto her back, scrunched her eyes shut, put her hands by her sides, and opened her legs.  “Sometimes, they wanted me to roll onto my stomach so they could………”

Ardeth closed his eyes and tried not to picture what Jamila had gone through.  Unexpectedly, he felt a feather light touch on his stomach. 

“Can I, can I see you?”

Ardeth suddenly felt shy.  He knew he was very well endowed, and he wanted more than anything to please Jamila, but he was not sure what her reaction would be.  His fingers fumbled as he untied the drawstring of his trousers.

“Are all men like that?”

“Well some men are not as, large.”  Ardeth could not help being proud of his size.

“And is that going to fit in me?”  Jamila pointed down to the area between her legs.  “Won’t it hurt?  The other men hurt me.”

Ardeth’s erection immediately deflated.  The thought of Jamila being hurt in that way chased any thoughts of sex from his mind.

Jamila, on the other hand, was totally enthralled with what Ardeth’s penis had done.  “How did you do that?” she asked, pointing to the now flaccid member.

“When I think about you, when I think about being with you, I get bigger.  And when I think about sad things, I get smaller.  Thinking about those men hurting you makes me very sad.”

Jamila reached over to kiss Ardeth on the lips, and his shaft immediately sprang back to attention, much to Jamila’s delight.

“Did I do that?” she asked.  Ardeth nodded.

“What would happen if I…….”

“What?”

Jamila lowered her eyes, embarrassed at what she was thinking but too curious to resist.

“What would happen if I touched you?”

Ardeth groaned.  The thought of Jamila’s small hands on him was one of his favorite fantasies.

“I am yours, my love,” he croaked.  “Do whatever you wish with me.”

Jamila tentatively touched the tip of Ardeth’s penis and he jerked uncontrollably.  Jamila quickly removed her hand.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked, concern in her voice.

“La, la, that felt wonderful.  Please, Jamila, please touch me again.”

Jamila began to feel braver.  Once she realized that Ardeth’s moans and twitches were not caused by pain, she set about to explore every part of his anatomy.  After examining the tip of Ardeth’s penis, especially the slit that now had some sort of wet liquid coming out of it, she moved lower, rubbing her hand up and down his shaft, fascinated that such soft skin should be covering something so hard.

Ardeth was exercising as much self control as he could, but he knew he was not going to be able to hold on much longer.  When Jamila finally reached under his erection to touch his testicles, he grabbed her hand.

“I cannot, I must……”

With a loud groan, Ardeth climaxed, he seed spurting out. Jamila jumped back but was still splashed. She reached down with her fingers to remove some of Ardeth’s ejaculate off her robe and without thinking put them in her mouth.

Ardeth had never seen anything so erotic.  He was still recovering from his climax but he could feel himself already getting hard again.

“Ardeth?”

Ardeth nodded, unable to speak.

“I feel funny between my legs.  It feels wet.”

It was an effort for Ardeth to find his voice.  “That is your body’s way of getting ready to accept me.  Inside you.”

A look of apprehension crossed Jamila’s face.  Ardeth noticed it immediately.

“Jamila,” he said, more in control of his voice.  “We will not do anything you do not want to do.”

Jamila pointed at Ardeth’s erection.  “What about that?”

“There are ways, my love, for me to provide myself with relief.”

Jamila took a deep breath and came to a decision.  “You said you were mine, is that not so?”

Ardeth nodded.

“Then that is mine to do what I wish with.  And I want……..I want……I want to be a true wife to you.”

Ardeth Bay had lost his virginity at the age of 14 while visiting Cairo.  A group of black robed Medjai warriors was viewed with fear and respect, even a group of teenaged Medjai warriors.  So when Ardeth, Musaid, and their friends entered the brothel, they were treated with deference despite their young age.

Now, watching Jamila shyly remove her robe, Ardeth was struck with the fact that while he had had many sexual encounters over the years, he had never made love with anyone.

The woman lying before him bore no resemblance to the ragged girl who had stood naked in his tent so many months ago.  Although she was still slender, her body had filled out, and she now had the breasts and hips of a woman.

Ardeth reached out and touched her right above her navel.  “This is where our babies will grow,” he said reverently.  “And this is where you will feed them.”  He tentatively touched her breast, eliciting a small gasp from Jamila.  As he moved to take his hand away, Jamila grabbed his wrist. 

“Please touch me there again,” she said.  “When you touch me there, I can feel it between my legs.”

“Your wish is my command, my lady,” 

Remembering his father’s advice, Ardeth was very slow, very gentle, and very tender, despite the sensation of his blood roaring through his veins.  He accompanied every touch with loving words and stopped every time Jamila asked him to.

Jamila soon stopped asking Ardeth to stop or slow down and found herself eagerly looking forward to his soft touches, especially on her breasts. When he moved his hand down between her legs, she tensed up for a moment, expecting pain, but found instead that she liked the feel of his fingers gently stroking her.

Ardeth felt how wet Jamila had become.  “My love,” he whispered, kissing her lips, “I am going to put my finger inside you, just a little.  If I hurt you, please tell me, and I will stop.” 

Jamila nodded.  “I know you will not hurt me,” she said, but Ardeth could see the fear in her eyes.

Ardeth slowly put his finger between Jamila’s folds, just to the first knuckle.  He could feel Jamila’s tension at first so he did not move it.  When he felt her relax he said, “I am going to move my finger a little, now.”  He pulled it out and pushed it back slowly, still only one knuckle’s worth.

Jamila released a shaky breath. “That feels……good,” she said in surprise. 

Ardeth smiled to himself.  “You must tell me what you want me to do.  I only want to do what makes you feel good.”

“Can you put it in a little further?”

“Of course, my little bird.”

Jamila unconsciously bucked her hips to meet Ardeth’s hand, and he pushed his finger in as far as it would go.

“Oh!” cried Jamila.  Ardeth immediately stopped, but Jamila reached down and grabbed Ardeth’s hand with her own, pressing it into her.

“Do. Not. Stop.” 

“Never,” whispered Ardeth. “I will never stop loving you.”

But eventually he did stop his soft assault with what had escalated to two fingers, then three.  Jamila was very tight, and Ardeth wanted to make sure that when he entered her it would not be painful.

Ardeth’s erection had progressed from insistent to painful, and he knew if he did not replace his fingers with his manhood he would be outside spilling his seed on the sand again. 

“Please, Jamila, I want you.  I need to be inside you.”

Jamila had whimpered when Ardeth removed his fingers.  She looked down at Ardeth’s erection and only for a moment wondered how he was going to fit that inside her.  But that thought was swept aside by the feeling that she needed him inside her NOW.

“Yes, my husband, I want you to be inside me.”  Jamila had never called him her husband before, and Ardeth felt his heart swell.  When he entered her, slowly, gently, he felt as though he had been waiting his whole life for just that moment. 

Ardeth thought that dozing with Jamila in his arms after making love was almost as nice as the act itself, but that may have been tempered by the fact that he had climaxed three times in less than twelve hours.  However, he was immediately awake and alert when he heard the sound of riders coming from the direction of the Medjai village. 

“Jamila, you need to get dressed.”  Jamila stretched like a cat beside him and Ardeth found he was wondering if four times in one day was too many.  Then he realized that he had a more pressing issue to deal with. 

Ardeth’s shirt was covered with semen from a few hours ago, but he knew if anything it would just prove his virility.  He quickly put it on along with his trousers and was just finishing tugging on his boots when Hatim and his companions arrived.

Ardeth grabbed his scimitar and came out of the tent, a dangerous scowl on his face. 

Hatim leapt of his horse, brandishing his own weapon.  “Where is my daughter?” he demanded.  You have spirited her away in the night and…..” he pointed to the suspicious stains on Ardeth’s tunic.  “You have defiled her! For that you must die!”

Ardeth stood his ground.  “It is true,” he replied evenly.  “I captured this woman according to the old ways.  I now claim her as mine by right and will challenge any man who disputes that.”

Jamila poked her head out of the tent.

“Daughter, do you wish to stay with this, this rogue, this bandit?” demanded Hatim.

“Aiwa, my father.  He did not steal me, but he has stolen my heart.”

Hatim resheathed his scimitar.  “My lord, I welcome you to our family.”

Ardeth could not resist hugging the older man.  “Hatim, now that I am a part of your family, you are to call me by my given name in private.”

Hatim’s eyes filled with tears, but he quickly recovered.

“Chieftain or no, if you make my daughter unhappy, you will have to deal with me!”  Hatim said with a huge smile on his face.

“I shall remember that,” responded Ardeth with the utmost seriousness.

After Hatim and the other Medjai left. Ardeth turned to his wife.  Even though the confrontation had been staged, Ardeth felt the flush of battle coursing through him.  He caught Jamila’s eye and smiled a knowing smile at her, which she returned.  Four times in one day no longer seemed excessive.

At any other time, Ardeth Bay would have been aware of the man watching their camp.  But his total attention was directed at Jamila, and he did not notice as the man watched them, waiting for his chance.

Jamila was down at the little spring.  She had just bathed and put her clothes back on when she heard a noise behind her.  Before she could turn, she felt a hand over her mouth and another holding a knife at her throat.

“I have been looking for you, daughter.  I am pleased to see you have done so well for yourself.  When we get to Cairo I am sure you will fetch a good price.”

She tried to bite the hand over her mouth, but Murrah pressed the knife harder against her throat.

“Do that again and your blood will be watering this wretched patch of sand,” he hissed, dragging her towards his horse.

“My husband will come after me,” Jamila gritted out between the Murrah’s fingers.

“Nonsense.  He will soon find another wife, one who is not a whore.”  He clamped his hand down harder on Jamila’s mouth, preventing her from speaking any further.

When Jamila had not returned to their tent within a reasonable time, Ardeth went looking for her.  Out of reflex, he put on his robe and grabbed his scimitar.  By the time he got to the spring, Murrah had gagged Jamila and tied her onto his horse.  As the Medjai ran up to them, Murrah drew a pistol from his waist and fired, hitting Ardeth on the left side of his chest.  He fell to the ground and the other man laughed.  “So much for your husband,” he sneered at Jamila.

Jamila tried to loosen her bonds but was unable to.  All she could do was stare in horror at her husband’s body lying in the sand.

Murrah’s meager camp was not far away.  After pulling Jamila, still tied up, off the horse, he tied her by her waist to a post he had staked to the ground by another length of rope.  He had obviously planned ahead.  Jamila could reach the cooking fire but not the tent.  “You can sleep out here like a dog,” Murrah said to her, indicating a filthy blanket next to the fire.  “Tomorrow we will be on our way to Cairo, but right now…..”

Murrah suddenly grabbed Jamila’s robe at the shoulders and ripped it down the front to where it was tied by a sash, exposing her breasts.  She was still gagged so she was unable to scream, but the looks she gave her tormentor made it clear enough what she would have said.  Murrah snickered as he removed the gag.

“Lā tilmisni!” Jamila cried, trying to twist away.

“Go ahead and scream,” he said.  “There’s no one here but us and I will enjoy hearing you beg.  Now let’s see what we have here.“  He grabbed Jamila’s breasts, laughing when she ineffectually tried to turn away from his hands.  “I don’t think a little bruising will harm the merchandise.”   He pinched her left nipple between his thumb and forefinger and gave it a savage twist, then turned his attention to Jamila’s right side.  “Need to make them match,” he leered.  Jamila bit back a scream, not wanting to give Murrah the satisfaction she knew he wanted. 

Eventually Murrah tired of his assault on Jamila’s breasts, somewhat disappointed that he had not elicited the tearful pleas to stop he had been hoping for.   He dragged Jamila over to the blanket and threw her down.

Jamila had not always been a Medjai lady, and she still remembered the curses she had learned in her childhood.  These same curses came bubbling out of her mouth as Murrah knelt over her, his arousal obvious, and pushed Jamila’s robe up around her waist.  As he bent over her and began to rip off her pants, Jamila managed to get one of her legs bent and kneed Murrah in the groin.  He shrieked with pain and gave Jamila a hard slap in the face.  As he limped back to his tent, Murrah muttered, “Don’t think we are finished here, girl.”

Jamila lay half naked on the ground, her hands still tied behind her back.   When she closed her eyes, all she could see was Ardeth’s body lying where he had been shot.  She felt like giving up.  Then she remembered her knife.  It was still tucked in the sash around her waist, the one piece of clothing that Murrah had not ripped.

As quietly as she could, Jamila rolled over onto her stomach.  Ignoring the feel of the scratchy blanket on her skin, she wiggled around until the knife slid out of her sash onto the ground beneath her.  She rolled back onto her back and positioned herself so that her hands were over the place where the knife lay.  She managed to grab it with two fingers from each hand and very slowly began to cut at the rope which tied her hands together.  She knew she had to hurry.  Murrah would be back after his distress had subsided. 

As soon as her hands were free, Jamila turned her attention to the rope around her waist.  This rope was much thicker, and even with the use of both hands, Jamila realized it would take a while to cut through it with her small knife.  Murrah would probably return before she was free.  Jamila knew her knife would be no match against Murrah, so she looked around for another way to defend herself. Her eyes fell on the cooking tripod.  One of the three long sticks would make a perfect weapon.  Trying not to make any noise, she started to remove the pot hanging there so she could free one of the sticks.  At the last moment, the pot slipped from her fingers and landed in the fire with a resounding clang.

 The noise brought Murrah running out of the tent,  one hand protecting his crotch.  He saw that Jamila was still tied to the stake, but now her hands were free and she was clutching one of the poles from the cooking tripod.  The cooking pot, along with Murrah’s dinner, was upended in the fire.

“You worthless piece of filth!” cried Murrah.  “You are not worth all the trouble you have caused me!”  He drew his pistol.

_“Do not aim for the weapon,” Natira told the class one day.  “Aim for the arm holding the weapon, right here.”  She pointed to the narrowest place on the forearm, right above the wrist._

Hearing her friend’s voice in her head, Jamila was suddenly calm.  She pictured herself back in the training ring, waiting her turn to spar, the noise of the village going about its business fading as she stepped up to her opponent.   Then everything slowed down, and all that there was was herself, her staff, and the man in front of her.

It seemed her staff was an extension of her own arms, and it was so easy for her to strike Murrah in just the right place, sending his pistol skittering off into the sand.   Murrah swore loudly, grasping his injured arm.  Reaching into his belt with his other hand, he pulled out his dagger and ran at Jamila.

Jamila allowed herself a small smile.  This was going to be easy.  Murrah, made reckless by the pain both in his arm and his groin, lunged wildly at Jamila, and she easily deflected his thrust.  He turned and came at her again, with the same result.   Again and again he ran at her, but Jamila held her ground, parrying Murrah’s attacks by merely changing her stance or her grip on the staff.

Murrah was breathing hard and not thinking clearly.  He could not understand how this girl was managing to evade him, especially when she was tied to a pole.  He gathered himself together for yet another frantic lunge.  This time, Jamila did not bring her staff up to parry the attack.  Instead, she slid her hands down to the end and made the same sweeping movement she had practiced so many times.

“And unhorse him!” she exclaimed, as she knocked Murrah’s feet from under him.

The next thing Murrah knew, he was lying on the ground with Jamila’s staff pressed against his throat.  There was a look of triumph in the girl’s eyes along with something else that made Murrah shudder.  Murrah own dagger had gone flying when he fell.  He noticed Jamila’s knife lying nearby and tried to reach it, but he was rewarded with a quick strike of the staff on his hand.  Murrah’s scream drowned out the sound of the bones in his hand breaking.

“La, la,” Jamila said softly, as if she were talking to a child.  “Mustn’t do that.” 

“Daughter, please,” Murrah begged, realizing that Jamila meant to kill him.

“Ssh,”  Jamila pressed the end of the staff against his throat again and twisted it slightly.  Murrah was suddenly aware that the end of the staff was pointed, and could feel a trickle of blood start to make its way down his neck.  He looked up at Jamila, his eyes wide with fear.

The sound of an approaching horse gave Murrah a moment of hope.  Perhaps whoever was coming would save him from this obviously deranged woman.  However, Murrah’s hopes were dashed when he recognized the rider.

“You’re supposed to be dead!”  Murrah managed to croak, mindless of the pressure of the staff against his throat.

Jamila had given one brief look at the man approaching but then turned her attention back to her prisoner.  But inside, her heart was rejoicing.  Moments later, she heard the sing of a scimitar being removed from its scabbard and she felt the soft touch of a hand on her shoulder.  She looked up into her husband’s eyes.

“Can I kill him?” she asked in the same tone of voice that a child would use when asking for a sweet.

Ardeth looked down at his wife, noticing her ripped clothing and her bruises.  “What did he do to you?” he whispered.  “Did he touch you? Did he…….”  Ardeth could not bring himself to say the word rape.  He could not even bring himself to think it.

Jamila kept her grip on the staff, occasionally poking Murrah with it.  “He touched me.  He hurt my breasts.  He tried to touch me between my legs, but I, I repaid the favor.” Jamila smiled that small scary smile again, and Ardeth understood.

Ardeth turned to the man on the ground.  To say that his expression was thunderous would be a gross understatement.

“I am Ardeth Bay,” he began, and Murrah knew he was hearing the voice of his own death.  “Son of Humam, son of Solkar.”  On a good day, Ardeth could go back fifty generations, but this was not a good day.  “I am Commander of the First Tribe of the Medjai,” he continued. “I am Chieftain of all the Twelve Tribes of the Medjai.   You have dared to touch my wife against her will.”  He paused.

“For that you will die,” Ardeth said softly, his voice like a caress.

“Sayyid!” Murrah cried, finally managing to twist away from Jamila.  He rose to his knees, he hands clasped in supplication.  “I beg of you!  The law says…..”

Ardeth stepped forward and grabbed Murrah by his hair, pulling back his head.

“Here in the desert,” he stated simply.  “I am the law.”

A single stroke of Ardeth’s scimitar and Murrah fell lifeless to the ground.

“May his blood water the sand,”  Ardeth cursed.

Jamila had dropped her staff and stood shaking, her arms clutched together as if she were cold.  Ardeth walked over to her and with one stroke of his still bloody scimitar cut the rope that was tying her to the pole.  He removed his robe and gently wrapped it around his wife’s shoulders.

“You’re supposed to be dead!”

“Obviously I am not.”  Ardeth noticed that Jamila’s teeth were chattering and hugged her to him, wincing when her head touched the area below his left shoulder.  “Our love saved me,” he said, patting Jamila’s head.

“I do not understand.”

Ardeth reached into the robe that was enfolding Jamila and pulled a book out of one of the inside pockets.  “I brought this along so I could read love poems to you, but I never had the chance.   When Murrah shot me, the bullet went into the book instead of my chest.”  He showed her how the bullet was embedded in the book.  “I was knocked out by the force of the shot.  Other than a bruise, I am unharmed. “ 

Jamila had started to cry silently, but when Ardeth opened his tunic and she saw the lump on his chest that had already started to turn an alarming shade of blue, she began to sob loudly.

Ardeth hugged her tightly to him, shifting her so that her head was against his right shoulder.

“Ssh, _kalila_ , it is alright.  It is over.  You were very brave.   We shall have to thank Natira when we get home for teaching you so well.”

Jamila looked up at her husband, her tears drying at the thought of returning to their village.  “Yes, let’s go home.”

As Ardeth helped Jamila onto his horse, he asked, “Would you have killed him?”

“Of course I would have.”  Jamila looked down at Ardeth.  “He dared to lay his hands on me and I am…….”  She smiled slowly, and Ardeth felt the warmth of the sun in her gaze. “The Sayyidah Jamila Bay, wife of Ardeth Bay, Chieftain of the Twelve Tribes of the Medjai.”

As they made their way back to their camp, Jamila turned in the saddle.  “My husband, will you teach me all those names of your ancestors?  How far back can you go?”

“There is a scroll in the Elders’ tent with the names of my ancestors on it all the way back to Kazeem, who was one of the personal guards of the Pharaoh Seti.   I do not know them all by any means, but I do know about fifty of them.  I am pleased that you wish to know of my lineage.”

Jamila smiled.  “It is now my lineage, too, and that of our future children.”

Ardeth looked down at his wife.  “Yes, it is, for you are truly Medjai.”

***

Musaid was surprised to see Ardeth and Jamila returning to the village so soon.  Usually, couples stayed out in the desert for a few days.  His surprise turned to distress when he saw the condition of the two riders.  Jamila had a bruise on her face in the shape of a man’s hand and she was wrapped in Ardeth’s outer robe.  Ardeth looked a bit better, but it was obvious he was favoring his right side.

Musaid ran up to them.  “Sayyid, what has happened?”

Ardeth briefly explained.

“Take my wife to the healer’s tent.  I will join her there shortly,” Ardeth ordered.  He tried to hand Jamila down to his friend but she refused to let go of him.

“I am not going anywhere without you,” she insisted.

“Very well.  We will both go to the healer’s tent.” 

Saleemah was the same age as Amira and Fatima.  She had taken care of Ardeth when he was ill as a baby and even now tended treat him more like a favorite nephew than as her Chieftain.  Jamila insisted that Ardeth be examined first.  Saleemah fussed over him, assuring herself that nothing was broken, and gave him a poultice to ease the pain and swelling of his contusion.

Jamila had little experience with healers and was reluctant to have Saleemah look at her naked body under what was left of her clothes.

“Do you want your husband to leave?” the healer asked gently.

“No!”

When Ardeth saw the bruises on Jamila’s body, he found it impossible to stay in Saleemah’s tent.  Hurrying outside, he almost collided with Musaid, who had just stabled both Ardeth’s horse and the one they had taken from Murrah’s camp.

Musaid saw the angry look on Ardeth’s face and the fact that his fists were tightly clenched.  “Is there anything I can do, my lord?” he asked.

“Would that that man were still alive.”  Musaid looked at his leader in confusion.

“So I could kill him again!”  Ardeth finished.  “But more slowly this time.  Much more slowly.”

Soon everyone in the village knew what had happened out in the desert.  Fatima rushed to the healer’s tent when she heard that Jamila had been injured.  She took her daughter in her arms as if she were a small child.  “Only you, my child.  Only you could get abducted while you were being abducted.”  At that, Jamila looked up at her mother and they both started to laugh. Fatima knew then that everything would be alright.

***

The wedding celebration of Ardeth and Jamila was postponed to give guests from the far flung tribes a chance to arrive.  Musaid and Natira were thrilled to be asked to be witnesses.  And Jamila finally got to see what Fatima had been sewing.

“How long have you been working on this, ume?”  Jamila reverently fingered the silk robe which was totally encrusted with beads.

“Ever since the night of baby Yusef’s party.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The way you looked at Ardeth, and the way he looked at you, I knew right away that you children were already in love, even if you did not know it yet.”

Just then, Ardeth entered his mother-in-law’s tent.  “Good morning, nassibah,” he said to her.  “What do you have there?”

Jamila shrieked and grabbed the robe.  “It’s bad luck for you to see this before the wedding reception!” she said, hiding it behind her back. But when she saw Ardeth looking at her with sad puppy-dog eyes, she held it out to him.

“It is beautiful,” he remarked.  Then he leaned over to whisper in his wife’s ear.  “I look forward to watching you remove it for my enjoyment.”

Jamile blushed.  “Go away!” she ordered.  “We have things to do!”   

Ardeth bowed low to his wife.  “By your leave, Sayyidah,” he said with a sly smile.

After he left, Jamila turned to her mother.  “I just love how he does that.”

“Does what, my daughter?”

“Well, everything, actually.  But one of the things I really love is when he turns to walk away, how his robes swirl around like that.  Is that silly?”

“Not at all.”  It was apparent that Jamila was very much in love, and that made Fatima happy.

A few days later, most the guests had arrived, including Akia, her husband Hakim, and their three children.  As they were stabling their horses, Hakim was set upon by a veiled warrior.

“Hakim!” the other warrior leapt into Hakim’s arms. 

The sight of the two black robed Medjai in such a position made Akia laugh.  “Marhaban, sister.”  she said.

Natira jumped down from her brother’s embrace.  “How did you know it was me?” 

Natira was quite tall for a woman and when veiled and in her Medjai robes she could easily be taken for a man. 

“I could not imagine any other warrior attacking my husband in such an, affectionate, manner.  And besides, your robes are not fitting you properly.”

“Would you like to feel him, her, them, whatever, kick?”  Natira took her sister-in-law’s hand and held it to her abdomen. 

“I’m not actually on active duty anymore.  No patrolling, no sentry duty, no three month stints at Hamuaptra,” Natira said after both her sister-in-law and her brother had a chance to touch her stomach.  “The Chieftain wanted us all to dress in our robes today, even those who have retired, as a show of force in case there is trouble.  He thinks it may be too tempting for our enemies to miss a chance to attack when there are so many commanders in the same place at once.  Not that I would mind.”  She drew her scimitar from its sheath.  “It is thirsty for blood.”

Her brother nodded.  Hakim understood how restless Natira must be.

“Well if you bloodthirsty savages will excuse me, our children are anxious to see their cousins.”  Akia smiled when she said this.  She genuinely liked Natira, even if she did not fully understand the life her sister-in-law had chosen.

Akia and Hakim’s three children had been standing quietly during this reunion.  They did not really remember their aunt and felt shy.  Natira removed her veil and turban, allowing her long hair to tumble down her shoulders.  She squatted down in front of her nephews and niece.  “You don’t remember me, do you?”  They should their heads.  “I am Sarra and Tali’s mom.”

“But you are a warrior!” One of the boys exclaimed.

“And girls can’t be warriors, can they?” asked the other boy.

They both turned to look at their sister.

“Girls can be anything they want,” replied Natira.  “Now go with your ume.  My girls are looking forward to spending some time playing with you.”

Akia soon found Sarra and Tali being supervised by one of the girls of the village.

“My name is Akia,” she introduced herself.  “Fatima is my mother and Natira’s daughters are my nieces.” 

Jamila was no longer surprised to find that almost everyone was somehow related to everyone else.  Medjai routinely called other Medjai “cousin” or referred to them as “my cousin”, and this would more often than not be correct. Akia had met her husband when he was on a three month rotation in the First Tribe, and moved back to his home in the Seventh Tribe after they were married. “My name is Jamila,” the girl said.

“She’s the Sayyidah!” one of the twins exclaimed.

“But we get to call her Jamila!” said the other one.

“Because we’re special!” completed the first girl.

“You are special,” laughed Jamila, grabbing both girls in a hug.  “Tali.”  She said to the first girl.

“No, I’m Sarra.”

“I’m sure you are Tali, because Tali is ticklish!”  Jamily made as if to tickle the girl.

“Yes! Yes! I am your Tali!”

Jamila gave both girls a kiss on the top of their heads.  “Now go play with your cousins.”

Akia was dumfounded by this exchange.  “Sayyidah, I meant no disrespect.  I did not realize…..”

Jamila interrupted her.  “If you truly want to address me with respect, you should call me Jamila, or sister.  After all, we are both daughters of Fatima and Hatim.”

“Sayyidah, I mean my sister, is as gracious as she is beautiful.” 

“Now come sit with me and we will talk.  I have always wanted a sister!” 

Akia was very impressed with her new sister.  Her parents had told her about the ragged orphan they adopted, and she found it hard to believe that this regal lady had once been that girl.  However, she soon forgot her reticence and before long the two women were chatting as if they had known each other all their lives.

“You have known the Chieftain since you were babies,” Jamila said.

“Yes.  His lady mother and my, I mean our, mother, were best friends even then.”

“Can you tell me something about what he was like as a child?  I would like to be able to prepare for……”  Jamila briefly looked down at her stomach.

“Are you…..?”

“Ssh, don’t tell anyone.  I am not sure yet and I do not want my lord to get excited when it may be for nothing.”

“Conceived in the sand?”

“Well we were only there for one night, but……” Jamily reddened.

“But you took advantage of that night!” Akia completed, clapping her hands together.  Impulsively, she reached over and hugged Jamila.  “Oh I hope you are with child.  Then you and Natira will have babies at almost the same time!

“Well right now I have to get through this wedding celebration without throwing up.”

“You know that’s a good sign.  And if you have indigestion, it means your baby will have lots of hair.”

“Then I have that to look forward to, also.”  Jamila smiled.  “My lord has the most beautiful hair.”

A short time later, after leaving the children with Akia, Jamila went in search of her husband.  He was standing in the middle of the canopy tent giving orders as if he were preparing his troops for battle.  Ardeth  wanted everything to be perfect both for his new wife and because it would reflect well on his tribe.  There were going to be a number of outsiders in attendance and Ardeth wanted to make sure they went home with a good impression.  As Jamila approached her husband, there was a commotion outside the tent.  A large man came striding in, an American by the looks of him.

Ardeth’s hand immediately went to his scimitar.  “How did you get past the sentries?” he growled.  Non-Medjai were not allowed to wander the village alone and were to be accompanied at all times by one of the younger warriors.

Jamila shrank back behind her husband, expecting bloodshed to follow.  But instead, the large American grabbed Ardeth in a hug.

“Ardeth Bay!  It’s great to see you, pal.”

Ardeth’s hand released his weapon and his face broke into a smile as he returned the embrace.  “As it is you, O’Connell,” her replied.  As they separated, he looked down at the other man’s arms, noticing that his braces were missing.

The man called O’Connell followed his gaze.  “Yeah,” he said sheepishly, indicating the tattoo on the inside of one wrist.  “I decided to embrace my past, as you suggested.”  He held up his arm and the two men touched wrist to wrist in a traditional Medjai greeting.

Ardeth reached behind him and brought Jamila forward.  “My wife, this is my brother Richard O’Connell,” he said.”

He turned to Rick. “May I present she who is my wife,” Ardeth spoke in the most formal manner.  To be able to introduce Jamila to people as his wife was an unending source of pleasure for him.

Rick stepped forward and took Jamila by the shoulders, placing a quick peck on her cheek.  “Call me Rick,” he said.  “Only my wife calls me Richard and then only when I have done something wrong.”

Jamila was reeling from all this hugging and kissing.  Among the Medjai, a man would never touch a woman to whom he was not related and a kiss, even an avuncular one, normally would be followed by the sting of a blade at the offender’s throat.  Jamila looked at her husband, fully expecting to see him drawing his weapon.  Instead, he was positively beaming.

“Excuse me, don’t I get a hug, too?”

Jamila had not noticed the small woman standing behind Rick.  The woman walked up to Ardeth and put her arms around his waist.  “I think you have gained some weight,” she said.  “Married life must agree with you.”

Jamila was now beyond stunned, and more than a little jealous.  Who was this hussy that dared to touch her husband in such a familiar way?  And Ardeth was looking down at her with more than a little affection in his gaze.  As Jamila glared at the couple, Ardeth looked at her, and the smile left his face.  _“Oh I am in trouble now.”_ He thought to himself, actually flattered by the anger he saw in his wife’s expression.  He gently turned the woman so she was facing his wife.

“Jamila, this is Evelyn Carnahan O’Connell, Rick’s wife.  Evy, may I present…….”

Before he could finish, Evy walked over to Jamila, who braced herself for yet another hug.  But Evy had spent much of her youth in Egypt and was familiar with the touching taboos, so she merely gave a brief bow.  “Sayyidah Bay,” she said.  “It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Aren’t you girls going to hug?” asked Rick.

“Rick!” admonished Evy.  But she looked at him with affection.  She turned back to Jamila.  “My husband tends to be, you might say, incorrigible.  But he means well. “ A look of understanding passed between the two women, as they both realized they had more in common than they had originally thought.

“I hate to be the one to break this up,” interjected Rick.  “But we really are tired.  Evy here insisted on coming by camel and my, my back is sore from sitting in the saddle all day.”

Both Evy and Jamila raised their hands to their mouths in almost the identical gesture.

“Incorrigable,” whispered Evy to Jamila, and the two women giggled.

“You will stay in our tent, of course,” said Ardeth.  “I will have one of my men escort you there.”

“No way, buddy,” replied Rick.  “You’re supposed to be on your honeymoon and we wouldn’t want to cramp your style.”

Another set of giggles from Evy and Jamila, accompanied by a whispered “Richard!” from his wife.

Amira, who had been putting up some decorations nearby, heard this last exchange and immediately came over to the group.

“You remember my mother,” Ardeth said by way of introduction.  More hugs all around.

“I have a solution to your problem,” said Amira.

 _“Of course you do.”_   thought Ardeth, smiling to himself.

“You will stay with Musaid and Natira, at least for tonight.  Their girls are going to stay with Akia’s children in our tent.  We promised them a sleepover.  Akia and Hakim are staying in your old room, Jamila.”  She clapped her hands. “There, it’s settled! Now let me show you where their tent is.  Did you say you came by camel?  We will have them taken to the pen with the others.” 

With that, Amira hustled the O’Connell’s away.  Rick gave a last desparate look at his friend as he and Evy were swept out of the tent.

“I have never spoken with Englishers before,” Jamila said to Ardeth once they were alone again.  “Are they all like that?”

“Rick is an American, and he behaves in a manner similar to that of other Americans I have met.  Evy’s mother was Egyptian and her father was British.  I have not met many Americans, but the other British I have met were more standoffish and brusque, especially when dealing with Egyptians.” 

“If Rick is American, why did you say he was your brother?”

“We are what he would call blood brothers.”  Ardeth showed Jamila a very faint scar on the palm of his hand.  “It is apparently is common among the Indian tribes of America.  After the battle with He-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named, we swore an oath of loyalty to one another and sealed it with our blood.”

Jamila had never noticed this scar.  In the privacy of their bed chamber, she had explored the various scars on her husband’s body, kissing each one as Ardeth told her how he had acquired it.  There was one on his lower abdomen which Ardeth delighted in telling Jamila about, as her mouth would usually find its way a bit lower, ending all thoughts of battle stories.

“And why did you say he was Medjai?”

“He wears the sign.  That is a mystery that has yet to be solved.”

Jamila looked down at the ground.  “I was jealous when Evy hugged you,” she said softly.

“There is no reason to be.  You know I belong only to you.”

“I would have killed her right then for daring to touch you in that manner,” Jamila admitted.

“Then you know how I felt when………” Ardeth did not need to finish the sentence.  He took Jamila’s chin in his hand and tipped her face up to his.  “Come, _kalila_ , and I will show you that you have no need to be jealous.”

Jamila looked around.  “What about the preparations?”

Ardeth growled low in his chest, the way he knew made Jamila want to melt in his arms.  “Do you dare to refuse an order from your Chieftain?” he said in mock anger.

“No, Sayyid,”  said Jamila contritely, but she was smiling as her husband pulled her back to their tent.

Some time later, Ardeth and Jamila went to make sure the O’Connells were settling in properly. 

“I have never met a female Medjai warrior,” Evy whispered to Jamila.  “I did not even know they existed.  Natira is very, formidable.”

“She is my best friend,” replied Jamila, her eyes becoming moist as she realized that she not only had friends, she had a best friend, and one who was a Medjai warrior at that.

At that moment, Rick returned from the camel pen where he had been unloading the rest of their bags.  “There are some wedding presents here for you,” he announced, dropping a large canvas bag on the ground.

“Here, let me,” said Evy.  She retrieved took two small packages and offered them to Jamila.  “That one is a music box.  Ardeth told Rick what a beautiful voice you have.  And this other one is some lavender bath salts.  They are my favorite scent.  Rick likes them, too.”

“On her,” Rick interrupted.  “Not on me!” 

“Thank you, I have never received such wonderful gifts.” said Jamila. 

“What about me?” interjected Ardeth.

“I have something special for you,” answered Rick, reaching deep into the bag.  He pulled out a Thompson submachine gun, festooned incongruously with a red ribbon, and handed it over to Ardeth.

“O’Connell!  How did you know this was just what I wanted?” Ardeth asked, his eyes shining.

“Just a lucky guess.”  A look passed between the two men that spoke of battles fought and won together.

The two couples spent the rest of the afternoon together.  As they took a tour of the village, Jamila soon understood why her husband was so fond of the O’Connells, even though they were very different from the Medjai.  It was apparent that Rick would give his life for his “brother” and Jamila knew that Ardeth felt the same way.  Once Jamila got over her shyness with the outsiders, she found that she and Evy had a lot in common, especially with respect to their husbands.  There was much giggling and sly glances at the men, who pretended to ignore them.

Jamila was also very interested to hear about Alex, who had been left at home with his Aunt Mae as he had chicken pox.  From what Evy told her, the way children were brought up in England was very different from the way a Medjai child would be raised.

At dusk, Rick and Evy returned to their tent to change for dinner. 

“There is something I want to show you,” Ardeth said to Jamila once they were alone again.  He led her to the stables and pointed out a beautiful black mare.  “This is my wedding gift to you.  Her name is Shehzadi,” he said softly, taking his wife in his arms.

Jamila reached out and touched the horse’s silky nose.  “Oh Ardeth, thank you!  But I have nothing for you!”

“I already have everything I could ever want,” replied Ardeth, taking Jamila in his arms.

But as Jamila returned her husband’s kiss, the thought to herself _“Not yet, my love, but soon.”_ And she vowed to tell her husband of her pregnancy as soon as she was certain about it.

Jamila felt tired after dinner, so while she was resting, Ardeth took the opportunity to visit his parents.  While he was a student at Oxford, Ardeth had had the opportunity to visit a circus.  What he saw in his parents’ tent reminded him of just that.

Amira was feeding baby Yusef, who was doing his best to squirm out of her lap.  The five older children were running around the tent screaming, playing a game of Medjai and treasure hunters, and literally bouncing off the tent walls.  When Ardeth was finally able to get his father’s attention, Humam smiled at him and whispered “Watch this.”

Humam picked up a bell from the low table next to him and rang it a few times.  Immediately, the children stopped running around and gathered around the older Medjai. 

“Is that my bell?”  Ardeth asked.

Amira laughed.  “You mean is that the bell we used to use to get your attention when you were that age?  Yes it is.”

“And you kept it all these years?”

“We knew it would come in handy again,” replied his mother.

“I always wondered what would happen if I did not quiet down when you rang it, but I was too afraid to find out.”

Ardeth looked at the children, who were now sitting quietly at Humam’s feet.  “If you children will get into your bedrolls now, I will read you a story before you go to sleep,” said the older man.

The two boys immediately got into one bedroll, and their sister got in another between Sarra and Tali.  “We’re ready, Sayyid,”  the older boy said.  He had decided he would be spokesman for the group.

Humam picked up the book of folklore that he had recently read for the second time and flipped through it until he found the story he was looking for.  “You may want to stay and hear this, too, my son,” he said to Ardeth. 

Ardeth sat down beside the girls’ bedroll.  Sarra, or was it Tali, immediately put her head in Ardeth’s lap. As he idly stroked the girl’s hair, Humam began to read.

“This is the story of Jachid and Jechidah,” he began.

Humam had a beautiful baritone voice not unlike his son’s, and before long the children were all asleep.  When he stopped reading, Ardeth asked, “Would you finish the story, abu?”  Even though Ardeth could have read it himself, hearing his father’s voice reading to him brought him back to his childhood, and tonight of all nights he wanted to hold onto that memory a little longer.

Humam finally finished the story.  Ardeth had almost fallen asleep next to the children, but he now arose.  “Abu, everything is changing.  I know I am a good leader to my tribe, but will I be a good husband?  A good father?  Sometimes I wish I could be a child again and not have to concern myself with such thoughts. You have been all these things.  Can you tell me the secret?”

Humam looked over to his wife, who was holding the now sleeping Yusef in her arms.  “There is no secret.  Before I married your mother, I was a man, and nothing more.  After Allah blessed me with her love, I became everything I was destined to be.”

Amira smiled at her husband over the sleeping baby.  _“Not yet,”_ she thought. _“You are still destined to be called jiddo (grandfather).”_ Amira had been noticing that Jamila had been tired lately and had initially ascribed it to the frantic activity surrounding the wedding preparations.  But when she came upon Jamila one morning behind the bathing tent giving back her breakfast, it was all Amira could do to keep from jumping up and down with glee.  Instead, she had silently slipped away, deciding to let Jamila share the good news in her own time.

After their night in the desert, Ardeth and Jamila were regarded as married by Medjai law. As Muslims, they also wanted to be married according to the laws of their religion.  One small departure from tradition was that instead of both witnesses being male, Natira had been chosen to be one of them.  Because Natira was a Medjai warrior, she was considered male by Medjai custom, even though she was also the mother of two children. 

Natira had decided not to wear the traditional black silk robes that warriors wore for special occasions.  Instead, she chose to wear a tunic of “Medjai blue” that was embroidered along the front in black and silver thread with symbols identical to the marks that indicated her status as a warrior.  Unlike many of the other women, she had chosen not to henna her hands, as she did not want to obscure the tattoos there. 

Musaid thought his wife was beautiful in her Medjai warrior robes, but when he saw her dressed for the contract signing ceremony, he was speechless.  Natira looked over to him as she finished fastening her sandals, having decided that her normal choice of boots did not go with the rest of her outfit.  “Do not get used to this, my husband,” she said.  “I will not be wearing it for long.”

“If I had my way, you would not be wearing it at all!” replied Musaid, trying for the third time to get the two sides of the front of his robe to line up.  He finally gave up. 

“Can you help me with this?”  But when Natira went over to help him, he quickly bent down and pulled up her robe. 

“You are not wearing anything under this!”

Natira slapped lightly at his hands, smiling in a way that let Musaid know she wanted him as well.

“Now I will not be able to concentrate on my duties as a witness, because I will be thinking of the fact that you are naked underneath your robe.”

“A Medjai warrior must be able to concentrate despite distractions.”  Natira said more serenely than she felt.

“Then I will concentrate on you later,” replied Musaid.

“And I, my husband, will most definitely distract you.”

All was not going smoothly in the Chieftain’s tent.  Ardeth had left early in the morning to do his rounds in an attempt to diffuse some of the nervous energy he felt.  Jamila was left at the mercy of some of the women of the village who would help her bathe, apply henna to her hands and feet, and anoint her body with fragrant oils before helping her dress.  Jamila’s dress, now finally finished, was more than any bride could hope for.  Fatima had chosen a bluish grey silk the color of Jamila’s eyes, and had sewn clear and silver beads all over it.  The result was that the robe looked like the desert sky just after sunset, when the stars had come out but it was not quite dark yet. 

Jamila stood, or sat, or lay down as ordered while the women fussed over her.  When they finally finished, Jamila reached to pick up her comb and put it in her hair.

“Oh no Sayyidah!” exclaimed one of the women.  “You do not want to wear that old thing!”

Jamila had had enough.  She been poked, prodded, oiled, dyed, and besides, she was feeling nauseous again.  “Am I not the Sayyidah?” she asked in her most commanding voice.  The woman nodded.  “And as the Sayyidah, may I not wear what I wish to wear?”

The woman knew she was in trouble, but could not hold her tongue. “But Sayyidah!”

“My lord the Chieftain gave me this comb when I was less than the sand beneath his feet, and I shall wear it when I wish.  And I wish to wear it today!”  She paused.  “Now, do any of you have any objections?”  The women all shook their heads, backing away from Jamila and out of the tent.

Jamila took a deep breath.  Now that felt much better. And better still, she found her nausea was gone.

Rick and Evy had decided to wear traditional Medjai clothing to the celebration.  Because Rick was considered to be a Medjai warrior, he was allowed to wear Medjai robes, and had borrowed a set of dress robes from Ardeth.   Rick was a little taller and a bit heavier than his friend, but on the whole the robes were a good fit.  Evy had borrowed a robe from Akia.  When Akia had married and moved to the Seventh Tribe, she had left some of her clothing behind.   Although Akia was taller than Evy, there were a number of robes that were short enough so that they fit Evy perfectly.  Evy had chosen one in a pale shade of pink.

“There,” said Hakim, adjusting Rick’s turban.  “With your hair hidden, you look like a proper Medjai.”

Evy looked up from where Akia was tying her sash.  From the second time she saw him, Evy thought her husband was the most handsome man she had ever seen.  But the sight of Rick in Medjai regalia made Evy catch her breath.  “Now I know why the Medjai have such a reputation as ladykllers.”

Hakim looked over at the British woman in alarm.  “We do not kill ladies!” he protested.

“No, no,” said Rick.  “My wife means women find Medjai men attractive.” He smiled over at his wife.  “With all the handsome warriors here, perhaps I should keep you in purdah until after the celebration.”  He laughed, indicating that he was just kidding.

Evy decided to change the subject.  “Akia, the Chieftain was telling us about his and Jamila’s time in the desert.  Did you and Hakim do something like that?”  She paused.  “If that is not too personal a question.”

Hakim laughed.  “It was lucky we had a little help from Sayyid Humam, or Akia and I might never have gotten married.”

“This sounds like an interesting story,” said Rick.

“I think I have time to tell it to you before the ceremony.”  The two couples arranged themselves on nearby pillows and Hakim began to speak.

“When I came to get Akia, my four brothers came with me.  It was a long way from our home in the Seventh Tribe, and I think they did not trust me not to get lost.  This was when Sayyid Humam was the Chieftain.”

 _The arrival of the five horsemen did not go unnoticed by H_ um _am.  The riders stopped and dismounted when the Chieftain walked up to them.  It would be considered disrespectful for them to be on horseback looking down on their leader while he was speaking to them._

_“What are you doing here?” Humam demanded, speaking directly to Hakim.  Of course he already knew.  As Chieftain, he was aware of virtually everything that went on in his village, as well as most of what went on in the other tribes._

_Hakim looked down at the ground and started to stammer a response._

_“Do not attempt to lie to me,” ordered Humam._

_After another few moments, Hakim gathered his courage.  “I have come to claim my bride, Sayyid,” he said, his eyes still lowered._

_“Are you not Medjai?”_

_Hakim nodded, not sure where this conversation was going._

_“Then you must be audacious.  And look at me when you speak to me!”_

_Hakim looked up and tried again.  “I have come to claim my bride!”_

_“That’s better.  How do you intend to do it?”_

_Hakim and his brothers looked at each other, making it obvious to Humam that they had no idea what they were doing._

_“Did you intend to pluck her out of the bathing tent and carry her off into the desert dripping wet?” asked the Chieftain._

_Hakim was struck dumb, his mind fixated on a picture of Akia naked in his arms._

_“You need to have a plan!” continued Humam.  “Come to the stables later and I will help you.”_

“You know how Sayyid Ardeth has that look, and that voice?” asked Hakim?

Rick nodded.  “I’ve been on the receiving end of the whole “Leave this place or die!” thing.”

“He learned that from his father, and when Sayyid Humam ordered you to do something, you did not question him.  And of course, the Chieftain had a perfect plan…..”

_Akia had gone out for a ride.  Medjai women were accorded the same freedom as men in many respects, so no one thought it odd for Akia to ride her horse out into the desert alone.   She was not alone for long.  Five veiled riders soon approached, surrounding her.  One of them, the leader she assumed, grabbed her horse by its bridle._

_“What do we have here?” he sneered.  “A doe kid, lost in the desert.  I think she would make a tasty dinner.  What say you, brothers?”_

_Akia tried to get away, but the man held fast to her reins.  “Let me go!” she pleaded, “Or my father will….”_

_“We care not for your father!”  He turned to his companions.  “Who is with me?”_

_“She looks a bit skinny for my taste,” one of the other men replied.  “It looks like she would barely make a meal for one man.”_

_“She looks just right for me,” replied the man holding Akia’s horse.  “I shall enjoy devouring her.”_

Hakim blushed, as did his wife. 

“Did you really say devour?”  asked Evy.

“Well, it was in the heat of the moment,” explained Akia.  “And one of the purposes of this whole thing is to get the woman, um, in the mood for…….”

“Say no more,” replied Evy, laughing.  She and Rick were no strangers to role-playing games in the bedroom.

_Akia soon found herself on the veiled leader’s horse, his arms tight around her waist.  The other four men, her own horse in tow, set off back to the Medjai village, while Akia’s captor sped her away into the desert._

“Of course, when my father found out I was missing,” said Akia, continuing the story.  “The first person he went to was his best friend, who just happened to be the Chieftain.

“And when Sayyid Humam showed up with the rest of the men, I almost gave Akia back!”  added Hakim.

“Thank Allah you did not,” laughed Akia.  “I think you had already planted our son in me.”

Rick looked at his wife.  “And to think all I had to do was save you from a bunch of undead mummies!”

Now properly dressed, Rick and Evy left for the canopy tent in the middle of the village where the festivities would be held, As they were walking, Rick looked down at his wife, then stopped short.

“What’s wrong?” Evy asked.

“Your robe.”

“What’s wrong with my robe?”  Evy looked down, expecting to find a rip.

“It’s the same color as your lips.”  Rick had fallen in love with Evy the first time he saw her at the prison and had grabbed her for a kiss.  It was the taste and feel of Evy’s lips on his that made him the saddest when he was about to be hanged, because he thought he would never be able to kiss her again.  Rick had never told this to Evy.  Initially, he thought it would sound unmanly.  And later, after vanquishing Imhotep, it seemed trivial.

Evy smiled at her husband knowingly.

“Did you do that on purpose?” he asked.

Evy’s smile deepened.  “Does it not please you, Sayyid?” she said with an impish curtsy. 

Understanding dawned on Rick.  “You knew all this time?” 

Evy nodded.

“What part of me did you fall in love with?”

“The day you met us at the dock, you were wearing those tight brown pants…..”

“Say no more, woman!  And you, a librarian!”

“Not all the books I read were about dead Egyptians.”

The wedding ceremony was nothing like Rick had expected.  Unlike Evy, who had spent much of her youth in Egypt, Rick had never been to a Muslim wedding.  One of the elders officiated.  Ardeth, accompanied by Musaid and Natira, proposed to Jamila in front of the guests.  This proposal included mention of the bride price, and there were gasps from some of the guests who did not know it was fifty horses.  After the four members of the wedding party signed the contract, Ardeth and Jamila shared a piece of fruit, and the ceremony was completed.

“That’s it?  No I do’s? No you may kiss the bride? No drunken ushers?” Rick asked his wife.  “Why does anyone even bother to come?”

“Rick, first of all Ardeth and Jamila are already considered married by Medjai law.  This was just a formality.  And the guests are here for the party, not the ceremony.”  A Medjai wedding celebration could last up to a week, or until the last guest left.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.  I never could pass up a good party.  It’s too bad your brother couldn’t be here.”

“You know Jonathan just got his nightclub started.  I’m so glad he is finally doing something with his life.”

“As long as he doesn’t drink up all the profits.”

There were a number of low tables arranged in the canopy tent.  At the head table sat Ardeth and his parents, Jamila and her parents, and Musaid and Natira.   The nearby tables were occupied by other Medjai, with the single women sitting separately from the single men.  Further on were seated the other guests, Egyptians and Europeans, in mixed groups.  Because of the number of outsiders present, Ardeth had decided that for her safety, Jamila should be accompanied by two Medjai warriors at all times.  He had chosen two of his largest and most menacing looking men for today, and they stood behind Jamila as unobtrusively as large, menacing Medjai could. 

As the celebration progressed it was so hot and noisy under the tent that Jamila began to feel light headed.  She excused herself and went outside for some fresh air, accompanied by her bodyguards.  While she was enjoying the coolness of the desert night, she was approached by the wife of one of the aides to the British Ambassador.

There was no alcohol being served at the party, but many of the Europeans, and not a few of the non-Medjai Egyptians, had brought their own.  This woman had most certainly been drinking, and Jamila was repulsed by the smell of liquor on her breath.  However, Jamila was now the Sayyidah, and she knew she needed to be especially polite and gracious to the diplomats and their entourages.  The Medjai relied on their contacts within the European community to keep them informed of any archeological expeditions that might disturb places better left untouched.

 “Well if it isn’t the blushing bride!”  The woman slurred her words slightly.

Jamila smiled politely, but said nothing.

“Tell me, Mrs. Bay, how many other wives does your husband have?”

“I am his only wife.”

“Then how many women does he have in his harem?” 

Obviously this woman knew nothing about the Medjai, but Jamila was determined to remain courteous.  “My lord the Chieftain does not keep a harem.”

The other woman snorted derisively.  “Your lord the Chieftain?  Does he make you call him that in bed?” 

Jamila did not like the way this conversation was going, but she was unsure how to extricate herself.  She did, however, catch the eye of one of her bodyguards, who quickly went to find his Chieftain.

Ardeth was initially concerned when he saw the warrior return without Jamila and was relieved to learn that his wife was merely stuck in an awkward social situation.   He immediately rose and followed Jamila’s bodyguard outside, determined to save his wife from any further embarrassment.  As he approached the two women, he heard Jamila say in a voice that was quite soft but held the promise of steel underneath it, “I cannot fit it all in my mouth.”

The first thing Ardeth thought was _“She has gotten the Sayyidah voice down pat.”_

His second thought was _“She cannot fit what where?!”_

Ardeth approached the two women and lightly touched the sleeve of Jamila’s robe.  “My wife, attend,” he ordered, then turned and began to walk away.  Jamila immediately followed him without a backward glance at her new “friend.”

“Oh Ardeth, thank you for saving me from that, that shrew,” said Jamila once they were alone, hugging him.  The fact that the two Medjai warriors were standing nearby did not require her to censor either her actions or her words with her husband.

“Did she upset you, _kalila_?  What did she say to you?  A bride should have only happiness on her wedding day.”

Jamila told him about the rude questions the woman had asked.  “And she called me Mrs. Bay!”  The wife of a member of the diplomatic corps should have known that Jamila was to be referred to as Sayyidah Bay or simply Sayyidah.  Those who knew her personally were allowed to call her Sayyidah Jamila and her family of course called her Jamila in private.  The fact that the woman referred to her as Mrs. Bay was a clear sign of disrespect. It would be akin to calling the King of England Mr. Windsor, using his surname but not his title.

“And then right before you arrived, she asked me if I did everything you told me to, and of course I said yes.”

 _“As long as it is something you wanted to do anyway,”_ thought Ardeth affectionately.

“And then she asked me…..”  Jamila turned to glance at her bodyguards, knowing that one had already heard this conversation.  “And then she asked me if I took your, your shaft in my mouth when you told me to.”  A blush crept up Jamila’s cheeks.

“And you told her it did not all fit?”  replied Ardeth, remembering the words he had heard Jamila say.  He broke into a laugh.  “That is brilliant!” 

“There is only one problem, my husband.  Now all the English ladies will be after you to find out for themselves if I told the truth.  I fear I shall have to defend your honor before the night is done.”  Jamila smiled broadly, and Ardeth caught her up for a kiss.

“Come, _kalila_ , let us return to our guests,” Ardeth said, escorting Jamila back to the tent, the other two Medjai following at a discreet distance.

The party was a great success, and it was almost dawn before the last of the outsiders had gone back to Cairo.  An acrid cloud hung in the air from their cars’ exhausts. 

“I think I shall spend the day in bed tomorrow, I mean today,” said Jamila, as she and Ardeth watched their guests leave.  Even though the celebration would last a few more days, Jamila and Ardeth were under no obligation to be there.  In fact, as the bride and groom, it was assumed they would want to spend time alone.

Jamila glanced at her husband, who had a look in his eye that Jamila recognized well.  “I mean sleeping!” she said.

“Would the Sayyidah not like some company, if only for a short while?”  Ardeth said in that low, husky tone of voice that he knew guaranteed he would get his way.

And he did.

Not long after, the two bodyguards, who were still on duty, definitely did not hear the following from their chieftain’s tent:

“ _Kalila_ , your lips taste like honey.  I wonder what your other lips taste like?”

“Oh…….Ardeth!”

 ***

Over the next few days, as the rest of the guests left, life in the Medjai village began to return to normal.  Jamila’s bodyguards were dismissed.  “I will miss them,” she admitted to Natira.  “They helped me carry the laundry.”  Among the Medjai, servants were rare and even the Sayyidah cooked, cleaned, and performed other household duties.

Rick and Evy planned to stay a while longer.  The next boat from Cairo back to England would not leave for another two weeks, and Rick looked forward to the opportunity to spend time with his friend.

One morning, a scout approached Ardeth as he and Rick were making the morning rounds.  “Sayyid,” the scout said.  “I have some troubling news.”  He looked pointedly at Rick, not wanting to continue in front of the American.

“This is my brother O’Connell,” explained Ardeth.  “You may speak in front of him.”

Rick held up his arm and pointed to his tattoo.  “See? Medjai.”

“There is trouble in Hamunaptra.  The Libyans are back.  The commander of the regiment there requests extra men.”

Ardeth turned to Rick with a gleam in his eye which the American immediately recognized.  “O’Connell, would you be willing to go to Hamunaptra with me and my men?”

“Let’s see.  Hamunaptra.  Libyans.  Medjai.  What do you think?”  Rick paused, then smiled broadly.  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

A similar scene played out in four tents.  The men were preparing for battle.  Hakim and Akia were still in the village, extending their stay so Fatima could spend time spoiling her grandchildren.  Hakim felt honored that he had been asked to ride with his chieftain and was busy sharpening his scimitar for what seemed like the fifth time.  Akia of course was worried, but as the wife of a Medjai she knew this was part of life.  The children’s eternal game of Medjai and treasure hunters had changed into a game of Medjai and Libyans.

In Musaid and Natira’s tent, Natira was griping about the fact she was not going to be able to go.  “It would be fun to fight alongside my brother again.” 

Musaid looked at his wife as he checked to make sure the shells in his bandoleers were secure.  “Fun,” he said.

“Do you mean to tell me you are not looking forward to this?”

“I am not looking forward to being away from you for even one night, but yes, I am looking forward to riding into battle.” 

Rick and Evy were staying in one of the temporary tents that had been erected for the wedding guests.  Now that the outsiders had left, these tents would soon be taken down and stored until they were needed again. 

“Now Rick, promise me you will not bring back any boxes, or books, or beetles.”

“Right, nothing beginning with the letter B.  Got it.”  Rick was rummaging through his bag looking for ammunition to go with his never ending supply of guns.  He had the guns laid out in a line and as he pulled shells and bullets from the bag he placed the ammunition next to the matching weapon.  When he was done, he chose a rifle, two long-barreled pistols, and a few other items, shoving everything else back into the bag.

Ardeth knew he needed to be calm and focused, but in truth he felt like a kid at Christmas. 

“You caress that gun the way you touch me!”  complained Jamila, but she smiled as she said it.

“But my love, it is a Thompson!”  Ardeth knew that no number of Libyans would be a match for a weapon that could destroy mummies.

Thirty black robed men were soon ready to ride out to battle, like Medjai had been doing for thousands of years.  Even Rick was wearing Medjai robes, his blue eyes the only thing setting him apart from his comrades.  Ardeth rode his big white battle horse.  In the heat of a fight, his men could easily find their leader by looking for his mount.  All the men had two scimitars and an assortment of knives.  Most also had guns and bandoleers.  Ardeth had his machine gun.  Rick had guns, scimitars, knives, and a few surprises. 

“Please make sure you have something other than my face to use in case you need to light those,” Ardeth had said to his friend when Rick showed him the grenades.

The men said their last goodbyes to their families.  Ardeth lifted his hand, yelled “Yalla Imshi”, and they were gone.

Jamila, Natira, Evy and Akia stood together as the last cloud of dust settled and the last sound of hooves faded.

“How do you do this?”  Evy asked.  “How do you let them go like this, time after time, never knowing if they will return?”

Akia and Natira looked at Evy as if she had asked how they knew how to breathe.  “It’s what we do,” said Akia, taking Evy’s hand in support.

Natira was looking wistfully out over the desert.  “I wish I was with them,” she said softly.

Jamila decided to change the subject.  “Natira, what do they talk about when they are out there?”

Natira laughed, her pensive mood broken.  “The men talk about three things in this order: women, fighting, and horses.”

“And what do you talk about with them?” asked Jamila.

“Just the fighting and the horses.”  The Medjai were not at all prudish about sex between married couples.  Besides, living in tents in such close proximity to one another, couples had very little privacy, especially after their children were born.  However, it was considered improper for men and women to discuss sex with one another unless they were married.  And Natira, even though she was a Medjai warrior, was still a woman.

Natira turned to Evy.  “When they start talking about women, I usually leave to, as you would say, “powder my nose”.

Evy laughed.  “I think Rick’s favorite topics of conversation are women and fighting.  I’m not sure about the horses.”

***

Ardeth ordered his men to halt at a small oasis.  The sun was at its zenith and this would be a good place to stop, take shelter from the sun, and water the horses.  One of the prime concerns of any Medjai was how to get from one place to another in the desert without running out of water.  Humam had started teaching his son where most of the oases were in their territory as soon as Ardeth could ride by himself.  As the future chieftain, it was imperative that Ardeth be able to safely lead his men from one place to another.

Ardeth, Rick and Musaid were resting in the shade of a palm tree talking about their favorite subject.

“When I saw Natira at the wedding in that blue robe,” commented Musaid, “she looked so different. And she behaved differently.  She was more, how do you say it, pliant. It felt like I had a new wife.  .”

“Pliant is good,” replied Rick noncommittally.  Evy was only pliant when she wanted to do something she knew Rick would not agree with.

“I have only been married a short time,” said Ardeth, “But I would say that the most arousing thing I ever saw my lady wife do was almost kill the man who had abducted her.  She was bruised, her clothes were ripped,”

“That’s arousing right there,” snickered Rick, earning him a glare from his friend.

“As I was saying, when I came upon them and she was standing over him, watching the blood trickle from his neck where she had struck him, well, it is difficult to explain.”

Musaid cleared his throat.  “I believe you are forgetting, my lord, that I live with a Medjai warrior.”

The other two men turned to him, laughing.  “OK, pal,” admitted Rick.  “You’ve got him beat.”

“Did I tell you about the drunken American woman who accosted my lady at the wedding?” asked Ardeth. 

After hearing the story, Rick could not resist a comment.  “Maybe she needs practice, my friend.”

“You should watch yourself when you speak thusly of my wife,” growled the Medjai, his hand suddenly on the hilt of his scimitar.  Rick tensed, then noticed that Ardeth had started to laugh.

“I shall definitely make sure she gets much practice when we return home,” Ardeth said, a sly grin on his face.

 ***

Rick looked down upon Hamunaptra from the ridge.  “I remember this place.  Except you were up here, and I was down there.  He looked down at the scene below.  The Medjai had the Libyans trapped behind some of the ruins, but the Libyans were in a defensible position. It was a stalemate.

“How much do you like that pillar?”  Rick pointed to one of the half buried columns behind which the Libyans were taking shelter. 

“How do you intend to get down there?” asked Ardeth, immediately guessing what the American had in mind.

“A diversion.  You guys are great at riding into a situation with scimitars drawn hollering like it’s the end of the world.”

“My friend, if the creature is raised again, it could be the end of the world.  But I see your point.” 

Ardeth gathered his men around and explained his strategy.  They would ride down into Hamunaptra in front of the Libyans, “Yelling like holy hell,” added Rick.  Rick himself would come in from the back and throw the grenades.  The explosions would either kill the Libyans outright or force them into the troop of Medjai waiting in front of them.  One of the Medjai was sent down to the troops below to explain the plan.

Rick immediately started making his way carefully down the ridge.  The Libyans, occupied by the troops in front of them, did not notice the American.  When Rick was in position, Ardeth whistled twice, a signal to the Medjai below.  Rick looked up at the sound, gave a crooked smile, and launched the grenades.

Panic ensued.  One of the grenades hit a pillar at the perfect angle, knocking it over onto a group of unsuspecting Libyans, who were concentrating on the Medjai suddenly swooping down on them from the ridge.  Between Ardeth’s men and the Medjai already on the ground, most of the Libyans were soon dead or dying.  Ardeth dispatched a group of men to “take care of” any who tried to escape.

Rick made his way over the rubble and dead bodies to his friend.  “Why the unhappy expression?” he asked.

“I did not get to try out my gun,” replied Ardeth.

“The day’s still young.”

As Ardeth and Rick made their way across the battlefield, Ardeth noticed something glimmering under the body of one of the dead Libyans.  He reached down and picked it up.  “I may get to use the Thompson yet,” he said, showing the object to Rick.  It was a pectoral, the kind that would have been worn in the time of Seti.  “The Libyans must have managed to get into the treasure room,” he explained.

From the time of Kazeem, the men of the house of Bay were privy to all the secrets of Hamunaptra.  Like his forefathers, Ardeth knew where all the entrances were to the hidden places.  Rick had been inside the buried complex before, but the entrance he had used was now buried under the sand.

Rick looked at Ardeth.  “And we have to go in after them, right?” he asked.  He took the gold necklace and examined it. 

“This would look nice on Evy.” 

Ardeth shot him a dark look.  “I know, I know, it’s probably cursed,” said Rick.

“We must return it to its rightful resting place,” replied the Medjai.

As the two men made their way inside, Rick turned to his friend.  “You don’t think they woke anyone up, do you?” he asked.

“I pray to Allah they did not.”

There were four Libyans in the treasure room, pawing through the stacks of gold coins and relics.  They were so engrossed in their activity that they did not hear the two men approaching until it was too late.  Ardeth unslung the machine gun from his shoulder and sprayed the men, killing them immediately.  He looked at Rick, an expression of grim satisfaction on his face.  “The site is a bit off,” he remarked.

After satisfying themselves that the site was secure, Ardeth and Rick returned to the other men.  Ardeth was pleased to learn that there had been no deaths and only a small number of injuries among his men, none life threatening.  The Libyans had not been so lucky.  One of them had been captured alive, and Ardeth was anticipating acquiring whatever intelligence this man would provide. 

Rick watched as the Libyan was dragged off to a tent at the edge of the Medjai encampment.  “I don’t think I want to know.”

“No, you do not,” replied Ardeth evenly.  “Death will be a release for him.”

Rick looked at the Medjai.  There were times when he thought he knew this man.  He had seen the loving and gentle relationships his friend had with his wife and family.  Then there were times like this, when Ardeth spoke of torturing a man to death as if he were discussing the weather.  “You know, buddy, sometimes I just don’t get you,” said Rick.

Ardeth looked back at his friend, and Rick thought he saw a fleeting look of sadness cross the other man’s face.  Then Ardeth turned and looked out across the desert without replying.  Rick took the hint and walked away.

Rick did not like spending the night at Hamunaptra.  He kept seeing and hearing things that were not there.  He was amazed at how sanguine the Medjai were about staying there.  Normally, the warriors would do a three month rotation, in Cairo or at Hamunaptra or one of the other sites the Medjai protected, then stay with their families for three months.  The idea of spending three months, or even three days, at Hamunaptra, did not appeal at all to Rick, and he was relieved when Ardeth ordered his men to break camp.  The original regiment, save the injured who would be returning to First Tribe’s village, still had another month to go at Hamunaptra, and Rick did not envy them. 

The Medjai stopped at the same oasis on the way home.  Rick decided he would never get used to how the Medjai could find their way so easily around the desert.  The first time he left Hamunaptra, Rick had wandered aimlessly for days, it seemed, without knowing where he was.  It was only by sheer luck that he had managed to survive.  After a brief rest, the company pushed on.  Ardeth sent a man ahead to let the villagers know they were returning.  As the men drew closer to the village Ardeth seemed to relax, and Rick knew he was smiling under his veil.

“I have not been away from my wife since we were married,” the Medjai said to his friend.

“You’ve been married, what, less than a week?” replied Rick, eliciting a chuckle.

“I am looking forward to a reunion.”

“As am I, pal.  As am I.”

When the Medjai arrived in the village, their families were eagerly waiting for them.  Rick looked around but could not spot Evy, and started to worry.  Suddenly a veiled woman came up to him, carrying the requisite bowl of water.

Medjai woman normally did not wear veils except when among outsiders, but Rick was not paying attention to the woman’s fashion statement.  He was more concerned with finding his wife.  However, when the woman spoke, he realized that it was Evy in disguise.

Evy had inherited her brown eyes from her Egyptian mother. Veiled and dressed in typical Medjai clothing, she could easily pass for Medjai.

“Would Sayyid care to drink and wash away the dust of the journey?”  asked Evy in passable Arabic, holding out the bowl of water to her husband.

Rick decided to play along.  “Where is my wife?” he demanded.

“She is elsewhere.  My lord the chieftain wants to reward you for your bravery in battle, and has instructed me to serve you in any way you desire.”

This was getting interesting.  “In any way?” asked Rick.

Evy looked down at the ground, pretending to be shy.  “Aiwa,” she said softly.  Rick did not see her smile under her veil.

The bowl of water forgotten, Rick led Evy to their tent.  When they were inside, he turned to her.  “You will do anything I want?” he asked, ideas already dancing through his head.

“Aiwa, my lord.”

Rick started to remove his robes but Evy, out of character for a moment, stopped him.

“Could you leave the robes on for a bit?” she asked.

***

“I’m going to miss them,” Jamila said as she and Ardeth watched the O’Connells board their boat in Cairo. 

“I will too, my love.  But we will be able to see them again when we visit London next winter.  We will see them, and we will see the snow.”

“Evy says she will take me shopping while we are there.”

Ardeth laughed.  “Shopping.  You are becoming more and more like my mother every day.  Do you want to visit the souk once more while we are here?”

Two large Medjai warriors accompanied Ardeth and Jamila.  They were honored to have been chosen to escort their Chieftain and his wife while they traveled to in Cairo.  Jamila and Ardeth had taken the O’Connells to the souk before their boat sailed.  Because they were escorted by three robed Medjai, Rick and Evy were given excellent prices on everything they bought.

“There are a few things I saw before that I might like, but I was helping Evy so I didn’t take the time to really look at them.”

“Very well, we are in no hurry to get back.  We are staying at the garrison tonight.”  The Medjai maintained a compound in Cairo, and Ardeth had a private apartment there.

Jamila knew exactly what she was looking for, and led Ardeth to a stall containing carved wooden items.  In the back of the shop, Jamila found the item she had seen earlier.  She held it up to Ardeth.  It was oblong in shape and about 2-1/2 feet long, with some sort of rockers on the bottom.

“This is what I want.”  She held it out to her husband.

The Medjai turned it over in his hands, not realizing what it was until he got to the bottom.  He looked over at his wife.

“Is this what I think it is?” he almost whispered.

Jamila nodded, her eyes alight, smiling under her veil.  “Allah has blessed us,” she said softly.

If the sight of a Medjai lifting a slender woman in the air and twirling her around in the middle of the souk shocked anyone, they were very careful not to let it show.  Anyone staring at the couple for more than a moment was soon met with the scowl of one of the other Medjai, and quickly looked away.

When Ardeth put her down, Jamila was laughing.  “That was very un-Medjai, my lord.” 

“Would you like me to do that again, _kalila_?  I would that the whole world know of this!

“You just want everyone to know that it was you who planted this seed in me.” 

Ardeth nodded, a smile on his face.  “That, too.  You know me too well, my wife.  Does anyone else know you are with child?”

Jamila was about to say no, that Ardeth was the first person she told outside of the healer.  But she remembered that she had promised herself never to lie to her husband. 

“Akia guessed, my lord.  It was before I was certain.  I asked her to keep it a secret.”  Jamila expected Ardeth to be upset, but instead he smiled.

“Medjai are good at keeping secrets,” he said.  “And I am glad you have a sister to confide in.”

After purchasing the cradle and a number of other items, Ardeth took Jamila to a small café on the main thoroughfare.  When the owner saw who his customers were, he came rushing up to their table.  “Sayyid!” he exclaimed.  “It is wonderful to see you in Cairo.”

Ardeth turned to Jamila.  “My wife, may I introduce my friend Abdul.  Abdul, this is my wife, Sayyidah Jamila Bay.”

Abdul bowed to Jamila.  “My lady,” he said politely, delighted that his Chieftain had referred to him as a friend.

“Abdul is a Medjai,” Ardeth explained.  Jamila had never met a Medjai that was not tattooed.  Seeing the confused look in her eyes, Abdul quickly rolled up one of his sleeves, displaying his mark. 

“Not all Medjai live in the desert,” the Chieftain continued. “Abdul and his family own this restaurant.  A number of foreigners dine here and Abdul and his sons are able to gather much information from overheard conversations.”

“I am sorry that I was unable to attend your wedding, my lord,” said Abdul.  “What with the situation with the Libyans…..”

“That situation has been resolved,” replied Ardeth dismissively.  He did not want to speak of such things in front of his wife.

Then, realizing he may have insulted the man, Ardeth continued “We very much enjoyed the pastries you sent.”

Abdul clapped his hands.  “That is wonderful, Sayyid!  I will have one of my sons prepare a package of them for you to take back to the village.”

After Ardeth ordered tea for himself and tamarind juice for Jamila, Abdul left the couple alone. 

“I did not realize there were Medjai who did not wear the marks on their face and hands,” Jamia said.

“Not all men are meant to be warriors.  Abdul is my father’s age and as a youth, before he took his final oaths and received his tattoos, he spent some time here in Cairo.  He met a woman and fell in love.  She was an Italian.”

“I have never heard of that tribe.”

“It is not a tribe, _kalila_.  It is a country like England.  Abdul knew she would not be allowed to live among the Medjai, so when the woman became with child he decided to stay in Cairo with her.  My grandfather Solkar bought this café for them, and they have been here ever since.  As it turns out, it was a wise decision.  Abdul and his sons have been able to provide extra sets of eyes and ears for us in Cairo.  Most people, especially Europeans, do not censor their conversations around those they consider servants.”

“And Abdul’s wife is an excellent cook!” he concluded.

“I heard that, Sayyid,” smiled Abdul, returning to the table with the drinks and the package of sweets.  “I shall be sure to give her your compliments.  Now, is there anything else you desire?”

Ardeth and Jamila had been seated at a small table near the back of the restaurant, away from sight.  The two bodyguards stood nearby.  They did not sit, nor did they eat anything, as they were on duty.  Abdul passed them some small packets of food to eat later, and they nodded their thanks as they put the packages inside their robes.

After making sure no one could see them, Ardeth took hold of Jamila’s hand.  “My love,” he began.  “Now that you are with child, it may be better for us to not…..”

“My lord, I have talked with Saleemah and she says it is perfectly alright for us to continue as we have been.  Do not think you will get out of servicing me so easily.”

It was frowned upon for Medjai men to require their wives to submit to them in bed.  However, it was traditionally a woman’s right to expect her husband to comply when she wanted him to bed her.

“Servicing you!”  Ardeth pretended to be offended, but Jamila knew from the twinkle in his eye that he as enjoying this banter.  “Do you think I am a stallion?”

“No my lord, you are much bigger.”

“And would you ride me like one?  Or shall I cover you as Shehzadi was covered?”  The mare Ardeth had given Jamila as a wedding present had recently been bred.

“Whatever you wish, my lord.”

“I would wish to make love to you right here on the table, but that would cause a scene.  Let us go back to the compound before I lose all sense of decency.”

As Ardeth and Jamila made their way through the streets of Cairo, followed by the other two Medjai, they passed by a small alley.  Ardeth stepped into it, looked around, and reached for Jamila, pulling here in with him.

“Your talk of horses has inflamed me,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her and pushing up her robe.  “I am not certain I can wait until we get back to the garrison.”

He touched a finger to her folds and found she was very wet.  “Is it alright to do this?”

Jamila nodded, eyes half closed, anticipating her husband’s next move. As two of his fingers entered her, she gasped and reflexively reached down to grab Ardeth’s erection though his robes.

“I could take you right here.  My men would not let anyone intrude.”

Jamila nodded weakly, her only thoughts on the sensation of Ardeth’s fingers between her legs.  When he removed them, she whimpered.

“Just a moment, my love. I need my hands.”  Ardeth soon freed his shaft from his pants, then turned back to his wife.  He lifted her up easily and lowered her down onto his erection.  Jamila gasped as she felt Ardeth impaling her and put her arms tight around his neck.

Normally, Ardeth took his time making love to Jamila, touching her, kissing her, making sure she was more than ready before he entered her.  Today he took no such time, realizing that Jamila’s blood was running as hot as his was. 

All too quickly, Ardeth felt the tingling the indicated he was about to climax.  He grasped Jamila tightly and gave a hard thrust, spilling his seed into her with a roar as he did so. 

As they straightened their clothes, Jamila asked her husband, “What of your men?  What will they think?”

Ardeth laughed.  “They will think that their Chieftain is a lucky man and worthy of their respect.”

That evening, in Ardeth’s apartment at the compound, as Jamila was putting on her sleeping robe, Ardeth held his hand out to stop her.  “I wish to look at you,” he said softly.

Her husband had seen her unclothed many times, but something in his tone made Jamila feel shy.  However, she dropped her robe to the floor as asked and looked up at Ardeth with a questioning gaze. 

“I want to see if you can tell yet.”  Ardeth knelt on the ground in front of his wife and placed a kiss on her abdomen.  Not a sexual kiss, but a loving and gentle kiss.  “Hello little Chieftain,” he whispered, his breath and beard tickling Jamila’s skin.

“What if it is a girl?” she asked.

Ardeth had not thought of this.  As far back as he knew, Bay babies were always boys.  “If it is a girl,” he said thoughtfully, “and she is anything like her mother, I shall have to start sharpening my scimitar right away.”  He looked up at Jamila.

“I plan to plant many seeds in you, _kalila_.”

Ardeth stood up and took his wife in his arms.  “Every day I am with you is the happiest day of my life.”

Jamila looked up and saw tears in her husband’s eyes.  She reached up to touch his face.  “Medjai don’t cry, my Chieftain.”

Ardeth looked down at her.  “Do not tell anyone, but we do.”

Ardeth and Jamila spent the following morning preparing to return to their village. 

“I do not know how we are going to load all your purchases on these poor beasts,” Ardeth complained.  But Jamila could see how lovingly he handled the cradle and the other baby items they had bought as he packed the horses.

“You know, my lord, I was thinking.  If we have a girl, I feel sorry for the boy who comes to court her.  He will have to get through you first.”

Ardeth laughed.  “Consider this. Imagine what will happen when Sarra and Tali come of age.  Their suitors will have to get past not one, but two warriors!”

The journey back to the Medjai village was filled with easy conversation and laughter.  The two Medjai who accompanied Ardeth and Jamila knew why their Chieftain was so happy, but they would not reveal what they knew unless Ardeth told them to. 

“How are we going to tell everyone?” asked Jamila, as they neared the village.

“I would like to stand in the middle of the village and shout it to everyone who passed by,” replied Ardeth.  “But I do not think that is what you had in mind.”

“La, I think we should have our parents to dinner and tell them all at once.  That way, none of them will feel slighted.”

“Are you feeling well enough to cook such a meal?”

“You did not ask me yesterday if I was feeling well enough when you took me in the street.”

“ _Kalila_!  It was an alley, not the street.”  Ardeth lowered his voice below his normal baritone.  “And if you will remember, I did ask you if it was alright before I touched you.”

“Ardeth Bay, if you think that talking to me in that tone of voice will get me to open my legs for you…….”  Jamila smiled.  “You are absolutely correct.  But not until we get home.”

The following day, both Ardeth and Jamila invited their parents to dinner.  That was not suspicious in itself, but the way Jamila was smiling when she went to her parents’ tent made Fatima wonder.  “Is everything alright?” asked the older woman.

“Oh yes, ume.  Better than alright.”  Then Jamila danced away from the tent before she said anything else.

Ardeth decided to take a more serious tone, with mixed results.  He made it through the invitation but when Amira looked at him, he had to leave before the grin that was spreading on his face gave anything away.

“What was that all about?” asked Humam, watching his son leave.

“Oh nothing, my husband.  We are just going to have dinner with Ardeth and Jamila, along with Hatim and Fatima.”  Amira had a good idea what was going on, but she wanted to let the young couple share their good news in their own time.

Jamila decided to make koshari, a dish of rice and lentils in tomato sauce.  “Since I have been pregnant,” she told Ardeth, “the smell of meat cooking makes me feel ill.  But those sweets we brought back from Cairo….”

“Those are for tonight, _kalila_.”  Ardeth laughed.  Like most Egyptians, Jamila had a sweet tooth.  “Besides, I have something else sweet for you to take in your mouth.” 

“If you keep talking like that, my husband, I will never get this meal ready on time!”

Jamila and Ardeth had a small stove in their tent.  Most of the people in the village did not have such a luxury and used the communal kitchen tent.  Jamila was glad she did not have to go there to prepare dinner, as she would have been assaulted by the aromas of cooking lamb and goat.  As Chieftain, Ardeth’s could have furnished his tent extravagantly, but he chose instead to live for the most part like the rest of the Medjai.  One of his few indulgences was the stove.  His mother had one, as did Fatima, and he knew they appreciated not having to carry food back and forth from the cooking tent.  Before Jamila came to live with him, Ardeth had lived quite spartanly.  The stove was one of the first items he acquired after Jamila accepted his marriage proposal, the other being a pillow bed big enough for the two of them. 

Ardeth decided to leave Jamila to her cooking and made his way to the training area.  Musaid was there with Sarra and Tali.  The girls were sparring with child-sized weapons. 

“Are those real scimitars?” Ardeth asked over the clang of metal.

“Now that they are going to be big sisters, the girls insisted they needed “big girl” weapons.  No more wooden swords for them.  Don’t worry, Sayyid, they are not sharpened.”

“My lady wife is cooking dinner for our parents and I am in the way,” Ardeth said. 

“We are letting Natira rest.  I am not sure who bothers her more, the girls or myself.  When she is with child, I just cannot keep away from her.  It was the same when she was carrying the girls.”

 _“That is very interesting,”_ thought Ardeth.  _“Maybe I am not a sex crazed lunatic after all.”_

“Actually, I was driving Natira so crazy that she asked the healer about it.” Musaid continued. “Saleemah told her that when a woman is with child she gives off a different scent.”

“So you want to couple with your wife because she smells good?”

“I don’t really notice any difference, but I guess my body does.”  Musaid lowered his voice to a whisper.  “It seems I am hard for her all the time.”

At that moment, Sarra and Tali came running up the men.  When they saw Ardeth, they both stopped short.

“Sayyid,” they said in unison, bowing, unable to repress a giggle at the end.

“I am trying to tame these wild creatures before they get too big.”  Musaid looked at his daughters affectionately.  “But I fear it is too late, as they now armed.”  He turned to the children.  “Girls, show the Sayyid what you have been practicing.”

Sarra and Tali turned and ran back into the ring. 

“Do they ever hurt each other?” asked Ardeth as he watched them spar.

“Strangely enough, no.  Not like you and I, my lord.  I think it has something to do with their being twins.”

Ardeth smiled, remembering his days as a boy when, after training classes were over, he and Musaid would continue to practice until dark. “We had fun then, my friend, did we not.”

“Aiwa, my lord.”

Even after being the Chieftain for three years, Ardeth was still sometimes struck by the distance his rank separated him from people.  He and Musaid had been friends since childhood, but now his closest friend addressed him as Sayyid or my lord, never by his first name.  That privilege was granted only to immediate family.

When the twins took a break, Ardeth turned to Musaid.  “Would you care to show them how it is done?” he asked his friend.

“With pleasure, my lord.”  Musaid made a brief bow, a smile upon his face.

Both men removed their robes and tunics, picked up training scimitars, and stepped into the ring. 

“Oh look!”  said Sarra.  “Abu is going to fight with the Sayyid!”  Both girls knew not to get in the way when warriors were fighting and they moved off to the side.

Even though Ardeth, like all warriors, trained every day, working with his friend was different.  They had been sparring together most of their lives and each was able to anticipate the other’s moves.  It was more like a dance than a fight.

“You fight like a girl!” taunted Ardeth.  The chieftain knew his friend was the better swordsman and hoped he would put him off guard with his words.

“Do you insult my wife and daughters?!  For that you must die!”  replied Musaid with a grin on his face, lunging forward.  Ardeth managed to sidestep the attack at the last moment.  The men circled around each other, both shifting their scimitars from one hand to the other.  Each lunge was met by a parry and neither man seemed to be gaining the higher ground.  After a while, Musaid noticed Jamila at the edge of the ring.  He purposely made a bad move, and Ardeth immediately had his arm around his friend’s neck from behind, his scimitar at Musaid’s throat.

“Your lady wife is here,” Musaid whispered, and Ardeth understood what Musaid had just done.   Ardeth released Musaid and the two men bowed to each other. 

“Come, daughters, let us go bother your ume,” said Musaid, picking up his clothes. 

Ardeth walked over to his wife, a sheen of sweat on his torso from his exertions.  “How are the dinner preparations?”

“Everything will be ready at the proper time,” replied Jamila.  “I enjoyed watching you and Musaid, and I was wondering, I was wondering if you still had that sweet you wanted to feed me.”

It took Ardeth a moment to figure out what his wife was saying.  He pretended to be shocked.  “My wife, it is the middle of the day, there is food on the stove, and our parents are to arrive shortly!”

“Then let us hope we are done coupling before they arrive.” 

When they were back in their tent, Ardeth found that his sparring match with Musaid had not cooled his ardor at all.  

“I love how you taste,” cooed Jamila, once they were in bed, licking the perspiration from Ardeth’s chest.  He shuddered in anticipation as she moved lower down his body.  “And I love your muscles.”

“Is there any muscle in particular?” Ardeth croaked, knowing the answer.

By now Jamila’s tongue was on his navel.  She snaked on of her hands down and lightly squeezed his erection, eliciting a moan from him.  “This muscle is my favorite,” she murmured,  “And the best tasting.” 

It was all Ardeth could do to not take Jamila’s head and push it down to his crotch.  Even though he had the capacity to be quite dominant in his lovemaking, having his wife take him in her mouth because she wanted to was much more arousing to him than compelling her to do it.

As Jamila put her lips around his shaft, Ardeth gently brushed her hair aside so he could watch her.  This was one of his favorite sights.  Jamila sighed contentedly as she moved her mouth up and down, the sound sweeter than any music to her husband’s ears.  Before long, he felt the familiar tightening in his groin and moved to pull Jamila up so he could enter her, but she shook her head, continuing to draw him further into her mouth.  She looked up at Ardeth, giving him permission with her eyes, and he immediately ejaculated in her mouth.

Jamila swallowed, and a smile came over her face.  “Delicious,” she said.

Ardeth was without words.  Although Jamila had taken him in her mouth many times, he had never climaxed there.  Just thinking about the expression on his wife’s face and her comment when she swallowed his seed was enough to make him start to get hard again.

Jamila was lying contentedly on top of Ardeth’s chest, her hand lazily circling one of his nipples.  Ardeth could feel the wetness of her arousal against his thigh.  Jamila raised her head and looked in her husband’s eyes.  “It seems, my lord,” she said, “that since I have become with child, I think about bedding you all the time.”

“The Sayyidah’s wish is my command,” replied Ardeth, moving his length so that Jamila could feel he was hard again.  “But this time I need to be inside you.”  Knowing she was more than ready to receive him, Ardeth quickly rolled them both over so that he was on top of her, entering her in the process.

Even though she had been shy at the beginning of their relationship, Jamila had lost her inhibitions thanks to Ardeth’s patience and consideration.  She wrapped her legs around Ardeth’s waist urging him to move his body up so he was entering her at just the perfect angle.  Ardeth braced himself on his hands and began to thrust slowly, savoring the feeling of being engulfed by his wife’s sheath.

Soon this was not enough for Jamila.  “Please. Faster. Please,” she gasped.  Ardeth gladly complied, bringing them both to completion.

“You will kill me yet, woman,” growled Ardeth, as he felt the last shudders of his climax.  “And I will die a happy man,” he added, kissing her gently.

After getting dressed, Jamila returned to the stove to check on the food while Ardeth attempted to straighten out their sleeping area.  “Our tent is filled with the scent of our coupling,” he grumbled.  But when Jamila turned to him, she saw he was smiling.

“Perhaps the smell of the carmelized onions will cover it,” she smiled back at him.  “Besides, I believe our parents know how babies are made.”

The first thing Amira said when she and Humam entered the tent was “What is that delicious aroma?”

Ardeth immediately started spluttering, earning him a glare from Jamila.

“Oh, that is the koshari,” Jamila said smoothly.  “I used the recipe you gave me, hamāh.  I’m so glad we have gardens here so we can have fresh vegetables.”

When the Medjai decided to live in permanent settlements instead of being nomads, they chose the sites for their villages carefully.  Part of the oasis which included the village of the First Tribe had been cultivated and yielded an assortment of vegetables, which included tomatoes, eggplant, and onions.

“That was one of Ardeth’s favorite dishes when he was a boy.”  Amira looked over at her son.  “Why are you coughing, my son?  Are you ill?”

“No, ume, it must be the onions.”

Unlike many other Bedouin tribes, men and women ate their meals together when it was just family or close friends.  After the women had served their husbands, they sat down at the low table to enjoy the dishes Jamila had prepared. 

“This is very good, daughter,” said Humam.  Jamila blushed at the former Chieftain’s use of the word “daughter”.  She was still figuring out what to call him.  She felt comfortable enough calling Amira hamāh, or mother-in-law, but Humam was just too imposing a figure for her to call him hamou, or father-in-law.  So mostly she would try to catch his eye and make a humming sound.

“You cannot continue to call my father “Mmmm”, chided Ardeth one day.

“What do you call my father?”

“I call him Hatim, as he is one of my warriors.”

“You take the easy way out, my husband.”

Tonight, Jamila decided she was going to be brave.  “Shukran, hamou,” she said, catching her husband’s eye.  Ardeth smiled in approval.  Since he had met Jamila, it seemed to him that he smiled more often than he ever had in his life.

Once the meal was over, Jamila served coffee and tea.  Traditionally, Medjai drank tea.  However, Ardeth had acquired a taste for coffee during the time he spent in Cairo and enjoyed having it after dinner.

“We visited Abdul’s cafe when we were in Cairo,” Jamila said, bringing out the tray of pastries.  “He sent his regards, along with these sweets.”

“What else did you do in Cairo?  I’m looking forward to going there again soon,” said Amira.  She was waiting for Yusef to get a bit older before she left him with anyone for more than a day.

“Oh, Jamila took me shopping,” Ardeth replied loftily, an idea forming in his mind.

“My wife,” he said, turning to Jamila.  “Perhaps our parents would like to see what we purchased at the souk.”

Jamila immediately caught on.  She went into the part of the tent they were already referring to as “the baby’s room” and returned with the cradle.

Both Fatima and Amira understood immediately.  The men took a few additional moments before the realization hit them.

Ardeth put his arm around Jamila’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head.  Such contact between married couples was allowed in private.

Humam was the first to speak.  “My son, congratulations!  You look like the cat that swallowed the canary.”

From the look Humam gave him, Ardeth knew that his father was making a word play on the fact that he sometimes referred to Jamila as Little Bird. 

After that, the tent was filled with happy talk, hugging and laughter.  Amira pretended she was as surprised as everyone else, even though Humam knew that was not the case.  She had not intended to tell Humam of her speculation, but after being married for over 25 years she found it almost impossible to keep secrets from her husband.  Amira knew that during the time Humam was Chieftain, there were things he kept from her, Medjai things.  She also knew that he did it out of love and concern for her and was comfortable with that.

Eventually, the older couples left.  “I would say that the entire village will know our news within a few minutes,” said Ardeth, helping Jamila clean up.  “I do want to tell Musaid personally.”

“And I would like to tell Natira myself.  She’s been such a good friend to me.  It will be nice for the two of us to have babies together.”

“I almost told Musaid earlier,” said Ardeth.  “He was telling me how he constantly desired his wife when she was with child, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from empathizing with him.”

Jamila laughed.  “Oh you poor men.  It’s so hard for you.”  Jamila giggled, realizing the double meaning in her words. 

***

A few days later, Jamila approached her husband with a piece of paper in her hand.  “Ardeth, I’ve written my sister Akia a letter in English asking her to come for a visit.”

“In English?”

“Yes, Saleemah helped me.”  While almost all Medjai could speak English, only some of them could read and write it.  Saleemah was one of them.  When she had decided to become a healer, Saleemah had been sent to medical school in Cairo, where the classes were taught in English. 

“May I read it?”

Jamila shyly handed him the letter and he read:

_My dearest sister,_

_I hope you and your family had a safe and pleasant trip back to your village._

_You may have already heard that my lord the Chieftain and I are expecting a child.  My lord has informed me that your husband will be away on rotation during the time I am to give birth.  If you are able, we would like you and your children to visit with us during that time.  Both your company and your advice after the baby is born would be greatly valued._

_Your loving sister._

_JB_

_P.S. I hope this letter gets to you in time!_

“This is very good.  But what is the P.S. at the end?”

“That stands for,” Jamila paused, thinking. “Post script.  Saleemah says it is Latin and it’s something personal a lady would put at the end of a formal letter.  Do you think it’s alright?”

“I think it is very alright, and I am pleased you want to practice your English writing.  Will Akia be able to read this?”

“Yes, she is learning to read and write English and I promised I would help her practice.”

“I like your initials at the bottom.”

“I did not want to write “The Sayyidah Jamila Bay.”  That was just too formal for a letter to my sister.  And Saleemah said you are not supposed to end a letter with just your first name.”

“It looks perfect. If you will give it to me, I will make sure your letter goes to Cario next week.”  Messages for distant tribes were usually brought to Cairo and then sent out with any rider who was going in that direction. 

Ardeth Bay was an avid student of military history.  While at Oxford, he had studied the exploits of Caesar, Alexander the Great and Hannibal.  After he became Chieftain, he was determined to streamline the way Medjai warriors were assigned to different locations.  He soon realized that he was not a general dealing with an army, he was a leader dealing with a nation.  He was not dealing with soldiers, he was dealing with men who had not only taken the Medjai oaths but were also men with families.  Ultimately Ardeth decided to go back to the original method, leaving the allocation of warriors up to the individual commanders, as long as any given location was properly protected.

Jamila went to seal the letter up in an envelope, but at the last minute, she scribbled one last line in Arabic. 

_P.P.S. Don’t tell Ardeth but I’m really scared about having a baby.  Please come!_

As she sealed the envelope, she thought to herself. _“It’s not really lying. I just don’t want Ardeth to worry about me.”_

_***_

The Medjai sentries had already determined that the caravan seemed to pose no threat to the village.  And if the riders were spies, then the Medjai had ways to deal with them.  A quick death by the blade of a scimitar was preferable to what the Medjai did to spies. The caravan consisted of four well cared for camels.  Their saddles were adorned with brilliant colors.  Bulging saddle bags with tassels hung down each side of the camel, promising a variety of goods for sale.  The first two camels had riders.  A man and a boy rode on the first camel, and a woman and a young girl rode on the second one.  The last two camels were piled high with all sorts of items to tempt even the most diffident shopper.

The camels stopped in the center of the village and the adults dismounted, each carefully helping a small rider down.   It was obvious that this was a family consisting of a man, a woman, and two children.  The sound of the children laughing as they helped their parents unload the camels attracted a number of Medjai who soon discovered that the peddlers had a good selection of desirable merchandise.

Medjai women normally did not wear veils while in their village.  However, when outsiders were present, most Medjai women, and many Medjai men, chose to wear them.  Jamila felt comfortable wearing a veil.  As the wife of the Medjai Chieftain, she was grateful for the measure of anonymity it gave her.  So she did not even think twice about the fact that she was veiled when she approached the peddlers.

There were already a number of villagers looking through the items on display, but they immediately parted to let their Sayyidah through.  Jamila had a list of items in her head that she wanted for the baby and knew this would be a good opportunity to acquire some of them.  Ardeth had already told her that he did not want her traveling until after the baby was born.  “Bay babies come early,” he said, reminding his wife of the circumstances of his own birth.

Jamila understood his concern but could not resist some good natured ribbing.  “Perhaps that English lady was right,” she said.  “You would like to keep me in a harem.”

Jamila had picked out a number of baby things including a small bowl and a soft blanket of the type not woven by the Medjai.  As she began to bargain with the peddler, she noticed that the two children were hiding behind their mother.  Jamila, remembering how she had felt when in a similar situation, realized that the children were frightened by the group of armed and mostly veiled warriors surrounding them.   She walked over to them and squatted down to their level, pulling aside her veil.  “My name is Jamila,” she said softly, pulling a few of the sweets she kept in her robe for Sarra and Tali out and giving them to the children.  “I once traveled in a caravan like you do.  These people are my friends and I promise they will not hurt you.”

After a nod from their mother, the children shyly took the candy.  “Shukran,” their mother said.  “It is a hard life for them.  Sometimes the people we come across are not as kind as you. “

Later on, Jamila showed Ardeth what she had bought.  “And our mothers bought all kinds of things for the baby, too.  They plan to make a quilt and your mother is going to help my ume embroider Bay family symbols on it.”

“That should keep them out of trouble,” Ardeth laughed.  He had already heard about the quilting project.

“I hear you were quite popular with the peddler’s family today,” he continued, which reminded Jamila that the Chieftain knew everything that went on in his village.  “Your graciousness honors me.”

“How do you do that?”

“What, _kalila_?”

“How do you always say the most perfect things?”

“It is easy, my wife.  I am, after all, the Chieftain of all the Twelve Tribes of the Medjai.”

 

 

Aiwa = yes

La = no

Shukran = thank you

Kalila = dearly loved

Ume = mother

Abu = father

Sayyid = lord (an honorific title)

Sayyidah = lady (an honorific title)

Ana esmi = my name is

Lā tilmisni = don’t touch me

Nassibah = mother-in-law

Hamāh = mother-in-law

Ḥamou = father-in-law

Marhaban = hello

 


End file.
